Caged: Retribution
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: Caged: Retribution, is a continuation of Caged, a sequel to On the Edge of Wakefulness. Tea Delgado has learned the truth of Todd Manning's brutal five years in Statesville Prison and it pushed her to a point perhaps of no return. She is fierce however in her desire to reclaim her family. Can Todd ever return home? Alternative universe, adult, graphic sex and violence, Todd-slash
1. Chapter 1

**CAGED: RETRIBUTION**

_"To take revenge halfheartedly is to court disaster; either condemn or crown your hatred." **Pierre Corneille**_

**Chapter 1**

_La Habana, Cuba_

_La Casa Particular de Sylvia_

The true viciousness of _El Diablo Blanco _rather took Raquel's breath away.

The soldier was a solid, hulking man and he'd fallen like a stack of cards. She could not fathom the kind of hate-fueled power that single punch must have had to flatten him, here on the second floor of the empty _casita. _She had seen more than her share of angry men and on some level the Mambo Kings leader was no different. And yet…

Such _viciousness… la perversidad._

Raquel had many conversations with him over soup and bread and his favorite whiskey. She grew to understand him as a strong but wounded man, a man with great love in his heart for a lost woman. He would come into the _paladar_ beaten, bruised and cut, but she knew the other man was more likely worse. Gossip assured her of it. He was smart, intuitively so, offering advice on her various businesses. He respected her. He could make her laugh with his shameless flirting, crudely sometimes. And then… he'd take her hand and hold it to his cheek, vulnerable, lost in a place he found there in her warmth. He whispered _mama_, in those drunken moments. How could she have known what lurked beneath?

She set her jaw tight and watched _El Diablo_storm down the hall to Rico, his lover, a respite from his hell. She kept her foot on the fallen man to keep him down in case he got ideas to fight. In English, the gun still hanging in _Blanco's _hand, he growled, "I am done talking. Find the contacts, get me explosives, NO MORE TALKING!" The young man was surprisingly unafraid as he barked more objection. The two went back and forth. The word, _innocents_, flew about.

"_I'm not helping you, puto,_" Rico had said quietly, in finality, head back, arms crossed across his chest. "We had this conversation. Death is too good for them, too easy."

Coldness flew out _Blanco's_ mouth, "Fuck you then, I'll-"

The soldier groaned and Raquel kicked him, "_Quiet, stupid man." _

But it was too late. The monster heard him. Gaze shifted hard. He spun on his feet, stalking back down the hall. Raquel watched that hair swing, that ominous limp, an expression devoid of reason, compassion. As if such things couldn't even exist on that bearded scarred face. This side of _El Diablo_, she did not know. She'd heard the confrontation with Pedro Moreno but… this…

She was unfamiliar and did not know how far he'd go with someone who personally offended him. He'd confessed to already having killed the little girl's rapist. She did not want a death here in the house. It was… bad luck.

"_Tranquilo, Blanco…," _she urged. Knife at her side but it was useless against the gun. He stopped and eyed her. She swallowed, holding his animal gaze. Tried to break through the new madness even though she did not think it possible. "_I don't want blood within these walls." _she said_. "I don't want the gods punishing me or Sylvia."_

He did not move for some seconds. Then nodded slowly. He stuck the gun in his waistband, the front, and again, paused. He put a hand out, "Cigarettes? Lighter? _Por favor, para mí?" _

Raquel stood and reached across the downed Rolon, handing him her pack and lighter. Like a viper, he grabbed her wrist and Raquel simply raised her eyebrows, waiting for his next move. His lips quirked, a tiny smile, but then he took the gift, releasing her. Eyes roving the ceiling, he shoved pack and lighter into his front pocket, the box crumpling. She observed all the ink on his body, dipped down his muscled chest and belly, landing on the spray of light brown male hair visible above the buttons of his jeans. Cuffs pooled at his bare feet. He'd lost weight. Worried Raquel despite everything.

He sniffed, a hand rubbing his nose. Then he bit down on his teeth, jaw flexing. Hunched and grabbed Rolon's legs in his hard hands. Dragged the man down the hall. Dragged him down the stairs, the poor disoriented and woozy soldier trying to lift his head to avoid more injury, hands stretched up to stop things. _El Diablo _didn't give two shits about what harm he was doing. He was rough. They passed Rico who shook his head, unsure of what to do. He too seemed to not know the extent of his lion's cruelty. Raquel briefly held the boy's hand and then followed the men down the flights of stairs. Maybe… maybe she could change things.

_Blanco _huffed as he pulled the soldier out the back door. The empty alley welcomed them, afternoon's light fading already in this dead of winter.

And then it got ugly. Such… _viciousness._

Rolon groaned from the pain, now being dragged some feet away from the back door onto the rocks of the alleyway. The soldier held a hand to the side of his head, blood oozing. His shirt had slipped up so cutting gravel had scraped his skin. "Come on," he rasped thickly, "_Blanco… what... what..."_ He grunted at Todd's sudden dead weight on him, legs straddling his hips, some undefined movement happening.

What he could not see was that while still sitting on Rolon, knees on each side of the soldier and pressed on the rocks, ass resting on thick thighs, _Blanco _mindlessly set the gun down. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cigarette pack and lighter. Shook free a cigarette, stuck it into his mouth and tossed the pack to the doorway. He lit up, a hand blocking the possibility of breeze. He tilted his head back and took a deep drag, smoke spilling out around the thing. Hands loosely on his own legs. Rico's Catholic charm chained around his neck glinted in the lessening light. Then he let the cig just hang in between lips, tossing the lighter next to the pack at the door. He picked the gun up again. Stared down at his caught, damaged prey. Face impassive, smoke rising.

Rolon groaned more, the world gray and blurry, hearing Raquel calling for Todd but the devil only snapped, "Get inside, woman. I'm protecting your house. _So the gods won't punish you._" She must not have moved because then he growled, "Have it your way."

Then yeah, hot metal slammed into Rolon's mouth and Todd bent low, a hand flat on the ground next to Rolon's head.

"_Wake up, bitch, wake the fuck up." _

Rolon opened his eyes wide, could see Todd smile, an ugly mad side smile. The cigarette threatened to drop out of his mouth. Hazel eyes were glassy, pinned from heroin, a true deadness there. He spoke Spanish. Rolon breathed fast, having no idea if that gun was loaded, or the safety off. He felt death's weight heavy on him. Looking into his friend's eyes, he knew Todd wanted to pull the trigger just the way he wanted to do it to Pedro. Jesus, was all Rolon could think. Jesus. He bit down on his teeth, preventing the gun from moving further inside. Thinking… his last words would be…

Jesus.

"_There you are. You are confused. Stay that way. I like it." _He pushed the gun against Rolon's lips, his teeth. "_Does the gun hurt? It's strange, yes? New? Different? Some thick foreign _thing_ at your mouth. _Open up more. Come on. Let me in, little piggy. Comeoncomeoncomeon ..." The voice got low and serious. "Let me in your fuckin' mouth or I'll punch this bitch right through those pretty ivories."

Rolon opened his mouth, some elemental desire to not feel any more pain. Todd pushed the weapon further in, sliding on his tongue. Rolon huffed, hands on now on Todd's arms. He groaned, voice scratching. He writhed, but didn't want that fucking gun to go off. If Todd shot him, Téa would be next. He was not afraid for himself, but was afraid just the same.

_"Do you feel it at the back of your throat yet? If I push it in, will you throw up? Imagine a thing like that… in and out, in and out... imagine the violation. Feel the violation. It happened to me, to Rico… and Pedro was in on it. Pedro made it safe for Caro to do it to so many. Feel it, my friend, my long time friend. FEEL IT. Is protecting Pedro where you want to be?"_

Rolon gagged at the metal pushed too far in.

"Kinda like that," Todd murmured. "Think about _that_. Being the innocent confused _recipient_. What is that, you wonder? What is THAT? You don't know… because you're just a child. None of it makes sense. It's all so fucking _confusing_."

Todd looked into Rolon's green eyes… open wide, trying so hard to speak with just his eyes. Rolon grabbed Todd's hair with one hand, squeezed his arm with the other. He grunted, giving Todd's head a strong shake. Trying so hard to bring him out of his madness while not jiggling too much. That fucking gun. One slip of a finger...

"You can't talk, _verdad?_ Neither can kids. No _voice_. No _power_. Like you right now. I know what you're thinking… why YOU? You're not a pedophile… this little show should be for Caro. Maybe even Pedro. But see… you are _protecting _all of them. You wanted to _talk _to me, talk me down. What did you say? _Get me on my feet._ But see… I'm done talking. I'm all about SHOWING. And right now you need to understand what it is to not have power."

From the door, Raquel stood transfixed, horrified, amazed, stunned. This was a very different man from the one she knew in her restaurant. The one who held her hand sometimes. The one who looked so sad at the loss of love. From her perch, she could see letters on his hand… L. O. V. E. She understood though the source of his madness. He spoke for all child victims. He was rape's rage. Raquel gripped the doorway. All she wanted was to be sure the soldier got out of this alive. She did not think he was an enemy. She kept going over the medications in her clinic. What would work on him? They were always short of everything.

Heroin would not help this. Obviously. But maybe keeping him asleep would delay whatever cruel plans he had. The plans that needed explosives.

Rolon shook his head, still holding _Blanco's_ arm, his hair. His eyes would close periodically, trying to breathe. Saliva bubbled up on his lips, spit flying with his hard breaths. _Blanco_ was cruel in his hate, as cruel as he could be. He moved the gun and laughed, the cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. A strange laugh Rolon had never heard before. He pushed the gun in deep once more. Getting another violent gag. He sighed, "Oh yeah... like that."

At that, Rolon and Raquel could see, feel, that there was a distinct sexual quality to _Blanco's_ act. He moved his hips. He licked his lips and then bit the lower one. His short breaths, silent grunts. He opened his mouth the same as Rolon and when he did that, the cigarette fell out. He didn't even move at the loss of it. Raquel was reminded of how a mother opens her mouth when feeding a baby… mimicking the little one's tiny mouth. He was in this place, this blind, mad, raging place. Opening his mouth. The gun being pushed in and out. Sliding in the wetness. The metaphor was obvious.

She couldn't take it, shouting, "_Blanco! Think, my friend! He was only here to help you!"_

He glanced up, eyes only. Cold empty eyes. That long hair hanging down, stringy… his muscles strained as he held his body up above the soldier. Looked back down at Rolon. Hissed, "HELP? _Do you know, mama, that he protects rapists, pedophiles? That he now fucks my wife. Yeah, THAT. I forgot about THAT." _He bent low again, got his face against Rolon's, against the blood… breathing in the smell of the man. Whispered, "_I can smell her on you. If I really try… I can smell her cunt." _ He rubbed his cheek against the blood. Breathing in the imagined aroma in the crook of Rolon's neck. "_Sweet… with a little salt._"

Rolon held him, held what was left of his friend. And in this moment… there was nothing but a body. The soldier groaned again, wordless agonized noise.

Todd sat up. Dead eyes. Gun still in the man's mouth.

"_Listen, Lopez, I have two messages for you._ One, I will blow your fucking head off the next time I see you. You and I are finished. _And the next time you see my WIFE, the next time your big fat cock is in between her legs, tell her I have two bullets reserved for her."_

Rolon reacted to that. The last words. He jerked and grabbed at Todd, fighting, fighting. Gun or not. That only served to incense the monster, getting him to squeeze his thighs tighter and push the gun deep into his mouth, getting that gag again, using all his body to restrain his prey. "Getting a little protective of Téa, are ya?" He laughed, huffing with effort. "Ask Gannon about her, ask him about how much her _fucking _means. In case you think it's _love_, it's NOT. And one last message, okay, a third message. Tell everyone, anyone, who gives a shit about Caro's victims… to stay out of my fucking WAY."

He shoved off at last, tall and dark and terrifying. He stood there staring down at coughing, groaning Rolon, the gun in his hand unpointed, hanging impotently at his side. Heaving Rolon didn't move now, staring back in complete disbelief, panting noisily like a dog. His face a mask of hate. Finally he spat, "I will kill you, I will kill you… you sick sick motherfucker ..."

_Blanco_ hissed, "_Exactamente."_ Dead cold stare. He adjusted his cock. Contemplated taking a piss here and now. He wiped the gun on his pants, cleaning it. He finally stepped over Rolon and passed Raquel. Said flatly, "I'm going to take a shower now."

Disappeared up the stairs.

Raquel got close to Rolon who was slowly sitting up. Knees up. Hands on his head. Cloaked in shock. She pulled a rag out of her pocket. Before she could pat the blood, the soldier turned and vomited. Saliva dripping, Rolon groaned, "_God, woman, get away from him. There is nothing left of him. Jesus, Jesus..."_

She said nothing for a moment, two. Rolon took the rag, wiped his mouth. Shaking with hate, humiliation. Anger. _"He did not kill you," _she then said_. "He did not kill this Pedro Moreno either. He does not follow through on his wishes. That is something."_

"_You're crazy, just like him."_ He looked back at the house, as if the monster would return.

"_Go to his wife," _ Raquel said_. "Talk sense into her. She should return home now that he is keeping bullets for her. He might not follow through but his wish… she should go home."_

Rolon growled, "_He has outlived his purpose on this earth."_

Raquel eyed the house, the open door. Things were very bad. Yes, very bad. The two gazed at each other. She saw real fear on Rolon. Mind working. Next steps. More hate.

"_He let you live," _ she said again. _"That is something. He wanted you to learn from his attack on you."_

"_Learn WHAT? That's he's insane? That he needs to be put down like a fucking DOG! He let me live only so I could send a threatening message to Téa. Well I have my own message… tell him he either becomes a man again, or it is I who will blow his fucking head off."_

Rolon shook Raquel off him and got to his feet. Walked down the alley, fuming, angry beyond words. A little broken. He turned at the last minute, _"I will kill him, woman, if I don't see a change. You can count on that."_

Watching the man turn the corner, Raquel held the knife at her side. Said, "_That was his point. Violators need to be killed. No more talk."_

She could not say it was _all _wrong.

* * *

Rico had seen the entire thing and at the last second, scrambled up the stairs. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and just watched _Blanco_ breeze right past him. He grabbed up things from the dresser and then headed down the hall again, retrieving his bag once more, gun in hand the entire time. Not a glance in any direction. The bathroom door slammed shut.

Raquel came up the stairs, looking pale. She had tough skin, but _Blanco… _well, he challenged her. She reached a hand to Rico, "_Estas bien, mí chiquito?" _

He found himself quiet, unable to respond really. He saw the man who'd beaten him with that iron fist, who threw him over his shoulder and brought him to the beach house. The same one who'd tied him to the bed for a week after, all before he'd become Rico's lion. He saw a man pushed into madness over his past and wounded over the loss of his wife, and in truth, there was no place in that madness for a whore who had little purpose other than creating fantasy, than being a… thing for others.

A nothing.

"_Rico?"_

He shut his bedroom door, Raquel's hand on it. She listened. Whispered, "_Blanco, Blanco… how you break those that love you. My god." _

With such viciousness.

She waited. She could not say why. Who were these people to her? Perhaps it was their raw humanness. Perhaps it was her constant wish to fix things, to sew things, to abut nature by sticking her nose where some said it doesn't belong. Whatever it was, she believed her place was near these people. Today. Tonight. For now. She took her place on the chair at the end of the hall, by the open window. She had picked up her crumpled cigarette pack. Smoked a cigarette or two. She had a bag with her. Unwrapped a sandwich she had never eaten. While she chewed thoughtfully, thinking on the larger pictures, Sylvia had come upstairs and asked if their guests had needed anything. She had run for cover the instant she'd heard shouts. Now that it was quiet…

"_Go home tonight, cousin. I will watch after the guests. Come in the morning. Come late. Near ten to prepare lunch. Go."_

Not too long after, Rico dressed in black with his favorite purple jacket came out of the bedroom, a bag across his shoulders. He took one look at Raquel and headed down the stairs. No talk. The front door shut. She doubted very much she'd see him anytime soon. She almost wondered if he was leaving… for good. Wondered if he was returning to his old ways after seeing _Blanco _so distraught over his wife. Wasn't sure how _Blanco_ would feel about that.

An hour rolled by and still _Blanco_ had not come out of the shower. She didn't like it. She knocked on the door, hearing nothing. No water, no movement. She opened the door slowly. She opened the door the rest of the way, the light on. He looked peaceful there on the floor, huddled against the wall next to the tub. He'd long slipped into his heroin-induced sleep. Blood spray next to him, a needle fallen to his side. The spoon, the lighter, a latex loosely hanging from his arm. Hair still damp that fell over his face. Wearing nothing but a towel across his lap. He'd had enough hate for the day. Enough unfulfilled plans. Enough loss. He was so quiet, so still, she pressed fingertips to his throat, checking for a pulse, seeing his chest rise and fall regularly.

"_Come, come to your bed," _the doctor said, lightly slapping his face to wake him up.

Opening lazy eyes, he looked at Raquel a long while. Searched her face, softness on his own.

"_Mama… ," _ he mumbled, "_why do you care? Aren't you afraid of me? What I might do?"_

"_No, Blanco, I am not the kind of person you want to hurt."_

He closed his eyes again and sighed, "_You need to run, maybe. Run fast."_

"_Where will you get your drugs then? Get up, can you do that? Nobody wants to sleep in a toilet."_

He chuckled quietly, knowing she was making a joke, a couple. He used her. Threw an arm over her shoulders and used her strong but slight body to get up. The towel fell and she did not care. Neither did he. He let her carry his weight. He stopped in the middle of the hall and just looked at her, slight disbelief. He was a monster today. And yet here she was…

"_Come on, my friend… only a little farther."_

They made their way to his room. He fell easily onto the unmade bed. Raquel stood and studied his form. How he pulled his knees up and cradled his arm. She covered him. He gazed back at her with those drugged light eyes. He looked profoundly helpless, nothing like the man in the alley. In this state, a person could kill him. She had a feeling if she put a pillow over his face, he would not struggle.

"_Why did your wife shoot you?"_

"_She was afraid of what I might do to the world. Thought it best to stop me."_

"_She broke your heart."_

"_She ended me."_

"_Nobody ends a soul. Yours still thrives… and if not here, it will continue into the afterlife. Perhaps you should consider what your wife tried to do… perhaps you should stop that which she believed you needed to stop."_

He wondered about her advice. Wondered how to stop… being himself. Because really, that is what Téa had needed. She wanted someone else, another man, a healthy one. Someone unbroken. Clear-eyed. Someone who no longer needed to fight. She needed to not be his queen, yeah?

"Maybe," he said as he drifted deep into his preferred state of being. As he flew home to be with his beloveds.

In his dream, he found Lucia, Reese, Starr and Jedediah, all on a spread of blankets on the grassy space behind his house. He had heard their voices and ran hard to them. He smiled at Téa waiting there, too, and she smiled at him. She took his breath away, how beautiful she was. How beautiful they all were. She said, _sit down, mí amor. Sit here._ Abram barked at him, happily, rolling onto his back, begging for a rub. He felt whole, complete… happier than he'd ever been in his life. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face when he lay down next to them. Oh god, it felt good.

He heard a smaller voice though, a much younger voice than all of them. Even younger than Reese and he knew that had to be the new baby. The baby cried and cried and cried. The baby was utterly inconsolable. He got up and knew he had to take care of it because Téa said she just couldn't… Reese and Lucia needed her. He walked into the house and saw the baby in the cradle in the kitchen… blood was still on the floor. His blood. Why, why, why didn't Téa clean that up? He picked the crying baby up and held it. Held it tightly to his chest. And the baby stopped crying in his arms. They were naked, bare. The two of them. He was afraid at first but then he wasn't. He was her father, he was everything to her. They were as truthful as two people could be.

He had so much love to give, and that baby… she needed it so badly. She smiled right at him and reached up to touch his cheek. Said…

_My name is Esperanza._

* * *

The complicated city flowed through Téa Delgado as she walked the perimeter of _La Plaza de la Revolución_. A beautiful morning in Havana. Here, visitors could admire the great memorial to _José Martí_ and the image of _Che Guevara_ cloaking the side of the Ministry of the Interior building. Beneath Che, his slogan gleamed, _"Hasta la Victoria Siempre," _meaning "Until Victory, Always." The meaning of the words were debated. She tended to think it meant… fighting always, until victory.

She breathed in the chilled air and the scent of historical revolution. Fidel Castro gave speeches here, shouted his beliefs here, infuriated the monster known as the U.S. of A. So much so that American government continued to keep Cuba in chains via the oppressive embargo, massive economic and other sanctions, punishment that rivaled those reserved for much larger enemies such as Iran and former Russia… such a small island, a pea in the princess's mattress.

Things were changing but very slowly. Her presence here at all was part of the change. The baby kicked and she paused her walk, a hand at her side, a tiny foot in her ribs. Tried not to cry. Tried not to think of… _things_.

_Revolution_.

Moving to the farthest edge of the square, she eyed a worker cleaning the concrete pavement, furiously scrubbing. By the time she got to him, he sat back and wiped his brow, glancing up at her. In Spanish she asked, _"What are you wiping off the face of the earth?"_

The man's face quirked at the strange wording, not recognizing the American reference. He furrowed his brows, "_Graffiti. An artist likes to paint the pavement. Foul words. They showed up again."_

"_What do they say?"_

He grunted, _"Today, 'Fuck Freedom'. In ENGLISH. The idiot! I have to clean five of them! Other garbage, too. Next week it will say something else, equally stupid!"_

Téa tried not to laugh. Couldn't get clearer on the painter's politics - clearly on the side of… wait. Maybe not so clear. She continued her walk and then saw more. She hadn't noticed them earlier. They were to the side, in black. Kind of hidden, but not. This next one said "Castro US Cant," and the next was a star with a smiley face. Looked to be dancing, a certain bend to it, reaching. More walking proved the series was repeated.

Téa wasn't sure of the meaning anymore. Really, the blended words could be that Castro cannot take away freedom…or Castro gives the middle finger to freedom, and is it _can't _or _cant_? _Us _or _U.S._? Different meanings. A cant is sanctimonious talk, hypocritical talk. And the star? Hard to say what THAT meant. It was a happy star. Same five-pointed star on the American and Cuban flags. English had to refer to America. Whatever the painter meant, he had sure pissed off the worker. Maybe that was the message. "Look what you have to do now… clean this shit up. At such a low wage. Fuck your supposed freedom given to you by Castro who spews bullshit."

She felt the frustration of the worker AND the painter. Felt like the dancing star. Fuck everything! Wheeeeee!

The nightmarish truth lapped at her, like the ocean's waves. What a glorious sickening mess she was in, all of them. Rolon had stumbled into the hotel's lobby last night, blood on his face, a good hit to the side of his head. Jed and Téa had been waiting for him and rushed him to Ken's room. Ken took one look and said, "Well, Rolon wasn't the way in."

The whole truth about what set off _El Diablo Blanco_ didn't come out_._ Téa pulled that information out later. When she heard Todd called her his _wife…_

_He's still in there, Rolon. Todd is still himself. Deep inside… _

Rolon wanted her to go home. _He KNOWS, _he agonized. _He's INSANE. WOMAN! _She refused. _What does he know, Rolon? He makes assumptions, always has. He smelled perfume? So what?_

_He has two bullets reserved for you, his words! GO HOME!_

Still she refused.

_Don't cry then… when I kill him. If and when he doesn't normalize._

But then he just sat there on the bed, his head in his hands. Eyes closed. There was more.

"_I feel raped," _ he said quietly, more to himself than her. _"I have never felt such a thing in my life."_

Téa listened as he summarily explained but he did not give details other than sticking a gun in Rolon's mouth. He wanted to kill Todd. Simple as that. But he was quiet in his anger… he shooed her away. Suggested she go home again. He had closed the door. She then said she would get her own room. He didn't like it but she was firm.

Maybe she was as insane as Todd with his two bullets saved for her. She imagined he kept them in his pocket.

Rolon was still on board with Operation Touchdown. Yes, he'd do what he could to close it up, to turn over Caro. See what negotiation was possible with Pedro. But he was different.

He was… _affected_.

And so here she was, walking the revolutionary plaza decorated by dancing smiling stars. Fuck freedom. Revolution. Cant. Castro. Todd wanted explosives, Rolon told her on the sly. He did not share that with Ken. What would _Blanco_ do with explosives? Blow up… what? Where Caro might be, so would children. He'd never risk such a thing. But then he was out of his mind.

_I swear, mamita, he had a hard-on when he stuck that gun in my mouth. He had no soul, no light in his eyes. Like a dead man. _

Ken, Rolon, Jedediah and she agreed… they were back to Rico as the voice of calm. In that _casita, _Rico did try to get Todd to listen to Rolon, said something about how maybe Rolon was saying the same thing he was. No idea what that meant but it sounded hopeful. And they all needed a little bit of hope. But then Agent Benicio Juarez got on the speakerphone… said,_ "I know you all want to save his ass. Do it fast. I will be down there and I will be taking him into custody, MY personal and illegal as hell custody. He's out of control and a major risk to life and limb of innocents."_

Vague on the time frame.

The hotel seemed oppressive to her. Rolon was there, Jedediah and Ken down the street. Pedro Moreno at the beach house. Gloria there, too. And she and Esperanza… everywhere. Todd and Rico at a house in the red light district. She walked the perimeter again, thinking, thinking, of what to do. Wondered what Todd was doing today there in that house, if he was there at all. The small white house, _la casa particular_… with the long hallway… and the two men noisily fucking in the room at the end.

_A dead man_, Rolon had said. _Like with Pedro at the clinic. Like with Jessie Horenda, how like a wild animal, stabbing Horenda, growling as MK men pulled him off. He did not stop growling and fighting until he was on the ground, beaten down. TWO men, mamita, it took. Bigger men than me. That crazy he was today._

When Téa glanced up, she saw Rico. He did not see her. He was sitting on a bench and smoking a cigarette, purple hoodie. Legs apart, Converse tennies. He watched the man continue to curse and clean the writing and then he looked away, puffing and very subtly smirking. It looked like he was laughing at the man working so hard. Suddenly it dawned on Téa, that maybe… just maybe, Rico was the artist. He stood after a bit and began walking away.

Téa followed. She wanted to see if it was true, that Rico could make headway. Truth was he fascinated her. Curiosity was rather killing her. Sometimes she wondered… what he did in bed with Todd. Stupid unworldly jealous musings. There was no room for such idiocy when lives were on the line.

Rico was much more alive than dead, very little like Brandy in that way. She had seen it when he danced in the club, rocking his body and lost in the sound. When he stopped at a little restaurant, stepping through the door, Téa went inside. This _paladar_ was pretty, tables around a courtyard. He sat in a corner and drank a beer. Téa did not waste time.

She sat heavily on the seat across from him.

He gazed at her, unsurprised. Deep brown eyes, oh so haunted, the little coffee in his fair skin. Dark circles under his eyes. He was tired. He needed to sleep. A handsome face. How funny that he was so beautiful, that Todd would choose such a beautiful man. In Spanish, he said, "_The lioness, come to see the doomed rabbit._"

"_Is that what you are, a rabbit?"_

He shrugged, tipping the bottle back, eyes on the door. Like he contemplated running. Téa could see his hands, blackened fingers. He put the bottle down. Ran a fingertip on the condensation of the bottle. Said, "_He is hitting the heroin hard. He does not eat, he hardly drinks water. You must be familiar with that state. He has a lot of marks on him. From a long time ago."_

"_Yes," _Téa said._ "I have seen him like that. He's been an addict for ten years. He tries to stop but… she always finds her way back to him. Is he using needles?" _

A quick nod said yes. This she'd known. Instinct, the look of him. She asked the waitress for water and a sandwich. She and Esperanza were hungry.

"Do you want to eat?" she asked. He shook his head. Who was he to talk about _Blanco_ not eating? He wasn't either. Rico couldn't take his eyes off her. She was beautiful, steady in her talk. Dry-eyed. She loved _Blanco_. He could hear it in her voice, see it on her. The fact that she was here told him that. He had heard the threat _Blanco_ had issued to Rolon. Two bullets. And here she was. He wondered if she knew.

He glanced away, finally. He had a sensation of not quite being on the ground. He hadn't slept. He had done his work and then went back to _la casita._ Raquel was asleep on the downstairs couch. He sat on the bed watching _Blanco_ for a long while, shaking him to make sure he was still breathing because he sometimes would just stop. His body would become so frighteningly still. Rico would shake him in a panic. So many times his lion had murmured, "Delgado, stop it."

At the last _Delgado_, when _Blanco_ groaned her name and asked her not to leave him, Rico got up and hit the plaza again. He'd only done about half but then said fuck it. The rest of the way around called out to be done. Sprayed his heart out. Sneaking in the shadows. Getting high off the smell and the nerve to spray such a sacred place. Paint was hard to get but he'd squirreled a can away for such a night.

He came out of his thoughts at _Delgado_ holding his hand, and asking gently, "Does he listen to you?"

He dragged his eyes back up to hers. His features frozen in whatever place he'd been. Téa sighed at the truth on his face. He was so open, so broken. She'd been right. This one had given everything he had to give… to _Blanco. _Oh baby, she thought, what has he done to you?

"I don't know," he rasped, pulling his hand out of hers. He drank the rest of the beer.

"I'd like you to try. Can you try?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Get him to cooperate with us. Me, Rolon, his son. Cooperate with the police rather than do his own revenge."

He chuckled dryly, "You did not see him yesterday. He will kill Rolon if he sees him again."

"Let a few days roll by. Encourage him to back off the drugs a little."

"At least if he's high, he's not trying to go after Caro." Eyes on hers. Brow knitted.

She sniffed at that certain reality. Being unconscious would keep him off the streets, keep him from getting his crazy hands on explosives.

"Does he treat you okay, Rico? He doesn't hurt you, does he?"

He glanced away. Lit up a cigarette with a shaky hand. Téa smiled at the waitress who set down her food. She ate slowly, deliberately. Drank down her water. Grateful. The two were quiet. He asked for another beer. When she studied him, she saw he had a terrible mark around his neck and she thought her question had been answered.

He suddenly shook his head, said softly, "He beat me once. Just once. He cannot hurt me. He CANNOT." He swallowed. The hurt on his face revealed too much of himself but he didn't or couldn't reign it in. His eyes watered and he studied the people at other table. Swallowed down more beer.

"Why do you talk to me, missus…. Manning?"

"Because he cares about you. Because he… cannot hurt you. Maybe that is what we are looking for. Someone who can deliver a message without inciting him to kill the messenger."

He licked his lips and chuckled, a sad laugh. "I am nothing. I am… nobody to him." He looked at her too deeply. He looked at the exit. He was going to run and she wouldn't get her chance to talk, to convince him.

"He might call me his wife… but he is very angry at me. Rico, he has chosen you to travel with on this part of his journey. Who is anyone to question it? I don't."

"He loves you. He is crazy with love for you." He smiled and sat back. And his broken heart tore at Téa despite everything. God, that man. That bastard of a man. Todd was breathlessly selfish in his use of people, in his desperate need for connection… Rico was anything but nothing. He was exactly what Todd had needed. But he had been wrecked through and through. In this, he and Brandy were similar. In the end, neither had the inner strength to put the brakes on Todd Manning's kind of love...

"Come to my hotel," she said. "You can rest there for the afternoon. Sleep without him near you. Safe. Let us… share space, talk, maybe you can tell me about your _artwork_."

He eyed her and drank more of his beer. Said quietly, his voice cold and closed off. "What artwork?"

She got equally cold. She grabbed his wrist and his eyes snapped hard up at her, distinctly unsmiling.

"That artwork," she said. "The work that has marked you. I rather insist you come to my hotel. I'd hate to report you for carrying illegal spray paint… and I bet a million to one… a sketchbook is in your bag, and there, an officer will find the exact same _artwork_...in pencil."

He pulled out of her grip, a VERY hard yank. He was angry. And Téa then drew yet another conclusion about why her husband had latched onto this man, other than finding a willingness to give up his soul. Rico's strength. He was no weak effeminate man. Not by a long shot. Oh no… he would give Todd.. such brutal physical love. He would hold Todd together, he would press on him so he could hardly breathe. The way he so often had needed Téa to do, a hold she did not have the physical strength to do. She could hear him, _tighter… tighter… tighter… _and there was no possible way to make her embrace any tighter than it was. And still he needed it.

_Hold me tighter because I'm going to fly apart, Téa… Téa… don't let me come apart._

Téa almost cried right there in the _paladar. _Thank you, she wanted to say. Thank you for holding him… so tightly.

Rico got up and walked right out of the eatery. Shit. She'd overplayed her hand. Téa threw the money on the table and ran after him. He did not run, he just needed air. She grasped his arm when she caught up and said, "Please… come with me. I want a chance at you helping him. He is dangerous. Rolon told me everything. I get it. He didn't listen to you yesterday when you suggested he talk to Rolon, but maybe… if you have MORE information. Real information. Maybe… you can get to him. Get him to talk to US. Before he sets his plan in motion. And now, while he's high and asleep… maybe NOW is the time for you to learn what we all can do to get to Manuel Caro."

She smiled…

"And I'd really like to know why that damn star… is smiling and dancing its way across the Plaza."

An hour later, Rico slept on her bed in the little hotel in downtown, Havana. Téa stood on the balcony above the noise in the wintry air and while leaning on the cool railing, watched the man who was responsible for keeping Todd alive… just a little longer. He slept fitfully. She recognized dark dreams when she saw them. She did not dare touch him. He could hurt her. Same as Todd. They were similar in their deceptive slenderness. In their nightmares, they fight victimizers as adults, with all their grown-up strength. She knew a little of his terrible past… what a big 'star' he'd been as a child and teenager in film, in pictures. Caro's favorite beauty. To see him on her bed, so… vulnerable. So resigned when he walked into her room to whatever might happen behind a stranger's closed door… it hurt the mother in Téa. He had walked in and sat on the bed, just waiting for her to accost him.

He had said, "_I have sex with women, too. If… that's really why I'm here…" _ Téa had nearly gasped at the obvious. Of course. He had no idea who she was, what sort of weirdo she might be to be insisting he come to her room.

He was so tired when he got to that bed. The beer had pushed him into exhaustion.

_Just sleep, _she had assured him. _I'm going to just watch the city. And make sure nobody comes in. You're safe, Rico. It's okay. Just sleep. We'll talk later. I don't want anything from you other than talk. I am not going to touch you, or hurt you. You're safe here, with me. _

He'd then lay down on the bed, never taking off a thing. Kept his eyes on her, until those browns finally shut beyond his control. Téa had found herself weeping. At too many things. Too many truths. At his trusting that if a person wanted him alone, it was to use him.

Ken had then told her, _oh it's far worse than you might think, if 'worse' is a way to describe all hellish abuse. Rico is a primary witness in a real live murder case. Possibly several of them. Snuff films. Kids died, Téa. Murdered, brutally, right in front of him. He's the star of like… four or five of these sick, sick films. He knows a lot of truths. Far more than he has been saying._

Tonight… there was a little hope in the air. And a hell of a lot of questions.

_What do you want the explosives for?_

_Retribution, Rico, RETRIBUTION!_

**To be continued….**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Caged: Retribution_**

**Chapter 2**

All he needed from his bag was his blue silk scarf. He got that easily enough, the messenger bag not having a zipper or anything. Rico saw that Téa was asleep, her features soft and her breathing gentle. She was on her side so her growing belly wasn't as visible. Still in her dress, but she'd taken off her bra and stockings, boots off, too. Her underthings lay across the bed, rolling off. He'd touched them… smelled a trace of her perfume on them.

The sun was up already. She'd fallen asleep next to him on that queen bed in the room. He had no idea when she finally succumbed to tiredness but he'd been warm, that he knew. Never felt the need for a blanket. The last thing he remembered was the late afternoon sunlight, watching her on the balcony, her hair in the breeze, her demeanor… royal. _Sí, una reina. _She was different than anyone he'd ever met. Nervy. Balls. Fearless. _Como un hombre. _Closed his eyes, looking right at hers. He had slept for what, fourteen or fifteen hours? A couple of dreams. Nightmares really. Over and over the same. The blood. All that blood. He'd wake, but sleep wouldn't let him go and down again he'd find himself.

His lion would be looking for him. This, too, he knew. Since the beating, Rico never slept away from him without the proper notice. He'd go to his family house every so often. To give them money. To check on the younger ones. To make sure that bitch wouldn't send the babies to the streets. He didn't know where they came from. They weren't hers. She said she fostered them. State paid for her to care for them, she said. Happens, even in Cuba. Unwanted kids. But sometimes, despite his best, those kids disappeared. He hoped they were returned home but… he doubted it.

He shut the bathroom door quietly and stripped to nothing, wrapping the silk scarf around his neck in that special knot. He didn't need light in the bathroom; enough came in through the space between floor and door. He sat on the floor, feet up against the cabinet, resting against the wall. He lazily rubbed his nipples, scrolling through his list of images to use, deciding the fantasy…slid hands across his chest and abs, massaged his inner thighs, spreading his knees apart. Touched all over, purposeful, intensely, except his _pinga. _He liked to wait for that.

When he was hot enough, seeing the usual pictures, he reached in between his legs and tilted his hips so he could move a finger in and out of his ass. He shut his eyes and rocked his head back… his cock hardened, achingly so. Huffed at the sensations before finally letting himself run to the image furthest away, the deepest now, not fantasy at all…yes, yes, his lion looking down at him while Rico sucked him. Those light eyes, full of mystery, darkness, fear, but mostly, the look of reluctant pleasure. _Dios_, _Blanco_ did not want to feel as good as he did. The recalled sensation of his pulling Rico's hair into his tight fist and thrusting into his mouth heated him even more. The taste of him, salt at the back of his throat. And then, _dios, _then the sound his lion made… the small grunted gasp… his whispered forced-out, "_fuck…"_

Now, now, Rico needed the touching.

He spit on his palm and it was good, really good at its job. He palmed his _pinga_, his breath speeding up. _fuck, fuck... _Over and over he heard it until it was coming out of his own mouth, "fuck...fuck..." His hand grew slick, his own juice coming, and he tried to mimic how _Blanco_ did it, his particular hold, particular strength in it. The way his thumb would slip across the tip every so often. Careless habit. Unconscious. No particular rhythm. _Blanco_ just did it; instinct, practice on himself, but maybe from farther back than that.

_Unwilling, reluctant pleasure._

He knew of that, lived THAT. Rico's head dipped as he stroked himself, getting closer and closer, and with his other hand he grabbed the scarf edge. Wrapped it around his hand… pulled it, starting the process of cutting off blood and air, knowing that when he went limp, the scarf would release. _Prudente, verdad?_

Consciousness started to be affected as the scarf got tighter. _fuck, fuck. _As he saw this dangerous damaged man who'd forced himself into Rico's life with a fist and left him torn up and confused and feeling less than nothing and yet more than anything he'd ever been. His head hit the wall and he grunted repeatedly at the good feel, grunted _fuck, _seeing that beautiful scarred face, feeling his weight and hard cock on his, his vision loud and raucous because blood was rushing, his ears throbbing with his desperate pulse and compressed air.

He was going to come, he felt it… oh god, he felt it…and that's when he yanked hard on the scarf, ending air and blood. He pumped into his fist… slowing and speeding enough for that perfect timing and everything in his body gathered, heat at the base of his spine, blackness coming too, _así, así, así..._

_"fuck..."_

And finally he sprayed hot and plentiful and he wasn't breathing, no, he was flying above everything, the intensity firing through his body and mind, and he could cry with the joy of it, and then the bathroom went black… and he hit the floor like a dead man… and that revived him, the tiles' coldness. That and the loosened silk letting air and blood flow again. He gasped awake and lay panting like a dog, knowing _Blanco _would be pissed off, but he needed it.

He just did.

_Fuck._

* * *

When Téa had woken up, finding yet another morning in wintry Havana, she was alone on the bed, no Rico. She had fallen asleep at some point, right next to his warmth. She had huddled up against his back, primal instinct pushing her there. As if to press up on him… was to press up on some part of Todd. She could have sworn she smelled Todd on him, his natural musky male scent with a sprinkle of heroin's sweetness and it broke her a little. When she felt Rico's absence, such disappointment came over her that she almost cried. He was her chance to make contact… a possibility of _reason_. The boy… the whore… he was a way in and he was gone.

Rolon Lopez had been… _distraught. _Bothered by the incident with the gun._ Madness, Téa, complete madness!_ The incident proved how far gone he was... and she'd only heard the basics. The storminess in Rolon's green eyes told her he'd held back on the assault's true awfulness. She kept hearing Rolon's utterance that he never repeated nor fully explained, "_I feel raped."_

So Rico was something of a desperate in, yes?

But then the bathroom door opened and there he was, holding an ivory towel to his crotch. Not gone. He didn't expect her to be awake and he froze in place. His longish dark hair was wet from the shower, his smooth hairless body still glistening, dewy. His dark eyes full of surprise and then embarrassment. Téa glanced away and… had to take a breath, really. She saw the source of his strength… defined biceps and shoulders and pecs, the shape, so so… _perfect_. No scars that she saw, no tattoos… Unwanted thoughts intruded at the sight of him, stupid thoughts, petty thoughts befitting a debutante. What difference does it make, _bobo_?

_Do they kiss? Deep or fast surface kisses? Does Rico open himself up for Todd? Does Todd allow himself such freedom to fuck like that? Does Rico suck him off? Does Todd suck Rico? Would he dare? Does he stroke Rico's cock? Those strong hands of her husband… would they be so bold? So exploratory? No, _she decides, _he'd lie there and let himself be jerked off… just like with the female whores. Maybe no kissing at all._

Her eyes must have revealed her wonderment because Rico yanked his own curious gaze and glided across the room, the red mark around his neck inflamed. He had a bright blue scarf in his other hand…luscious silk falling from his fist… and Téa contemplated why he'd need that in the bathroom… and then her education kicked in, all those books she read...

_Oh my._

She now knew where the markings came from. He liked not breathing when he came. _Oh my. _Why this morning? What triggered such a want… this morning? She knew he had history, not unlike Todd's own, much worse actually. The psychology of it scared her. Kept hearing Ken who told her many things….

_That poor fuckin' kid._

He made his way to his bag and like a million men have done for centuries, Téa snuck a peek at his bare behind. Just another bit of gorgeousness. She doubted Todd had any idea the beauty of the man in his bed. She was almost jealous. She wondered then if Rico himself knew how beautiful he was… she knew Caro did. It was why he'd been such a star.

_That poor fuckin' kid._

She turned away, guilty at seeing him so shallowly as he dug into his bag, grabbing things, tucking the scarf away, managing to keep that towel up, and then she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I fell asleep. I hope you're rested?"

The man didn't answer, only giving a passing glance before returning to the bathroom with grooming stuff. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush. The door wasn't shut all the way and she saw him dry off, then comb through his hair. He stood naked and Téa saw more than she cared to see. Or maybe that's not true. Maybe she wanted to _really_ look at his soft flesh hanging from a dark nest. Damn thoughts. He deserved more than that. She should be better than that. He brushed his teeth, eyes down, not looking too much in the mirror. He shrugged on the same clothes from the day previous, jeans, black t-shirt, purple hoodie. He came out soon enough and surveyed the room.

Téa didn't hold back. "Does he know you...choke yourself… with that scarf?"

Immediately a hand flew up, eyes widening slightly, as if he forgot. Or as if he expected her to be so naive that she wouldn't know what he was doing with a scarf in a bathroom... stupid. He was so used to the marks that they had been invisible. He swallowed and ignored her question. Hand down. His voice scratchy, worn, he said in Spanish, "_I have to go. He might think I have run away again and might be looking for me_."

"And?" Téa did not deny the words hurt a little, hearing a little of their relationship in his words, but the possessiveness was deeply familiar, Sixteenth Street rearing its head, Brandy's ghost slipping into the room. "What will he do? You told me he cannot hurt you."

He capitulated on her point, lifting a shoulder, saying quietly, "I don't know. He is probably high and maybe will not notice." He seemed to be angry at himself for having given in to his own exhaustion, shaking his head and hissing under his breath, "I should go." He looked around the room, brow knitted, looking for his shoes. Téa had taken them off while he was asleep. Had gently felt his hot socked feet. She'd put the Converse tennies into the armoire right next to hers.

"Stay for breakfast," she urged. "Eat. I will order food up, coffee. Please?_"_

He walked to the closed doors at the balcony, eyed the busy street some long moments, thinking on the offer. He was hungry and didn't have any money on him. He supposed there'd be food at _la casita,_ but he wasn't in a hurry to get there. He didn't know how _Blanco _would be, in truth. Angry? Not caring? He had seen the beast with Rolon but then saw the wounded addict calling for _Delgado_ that night. He did not know. Not quite ready to leave actually. Glanced at Téa. Maybe he was kind of struck by her, maybe he wanted to be around her. See in her the effects of what it was like to be truly loved by _Blanco._

"_Yes? You'll stay then?"_

He agreed and she grabbed the phone, calling room service. Ordering things that made his stomach growl. Fancy hotel to offer room service. Probably the best on the island. He'd only been in it once. Wasn't one of his best experiences.

Rico never moved, his bag still in his hand, still looking around the room for his shoes, a definite lonely streak that made Téa a bit protective once again. Feeling the selfishness of Todd to wreck this kid with his blind desperate NEED. No consideration. Rico finally sat on a sofa chair, body forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Téa got up from the bed to freshen up a bit. Hoped he would stay put. Prayed he'd stay put. She breathed calm as she got clothes. If he left, he left. When she came out of the bathroom, showered and dressed and ready for the day, she was relieved that he still sat on the chair though he had retrieved his shoes.

Glancing up, he asked, "When is your baby coming?"

"Soon. Three more months. Maybe less. She's big." Téa smiled. "Rico, you speak English very well. Where did you learn?"

He shrugged, "I have always known English. My mother says it is a gift from God."

"Hm. You must have family that speaks-"

"No," he snapped. _"I am… unique. But then… I know many people who speak English, so a lot of practice has perfected the skill."_

She smiled, feigning understanding but finding his explanation curiously… _impossible_. Ken had said he suspected Rico was an abducted child. He probably knew English from his babyhood. Ken had given Jedediah the job of searching international missing persons lists. American lists, too. Tedious work that occupied Jed pretty well. Made him feel useful… but heartbroken.

_So many kids, Moms._

Breakfast came and the two sat in their respective places, the bed and the desk, and they both nipped at the Cuban bread, drank _cafe con leche_ in a patient silence. They both seemed to live in quiet space easily.

Téa broke the silence with a basic question. "How old are you?"

He considered the question… funny how he hesitated. It's usually knee-jerk. Said, "Twenty-five."

"How long have you worked for Manuel Caro?"

He sighed heavily, "Since I was six."

"Do you hate him, the way… _Blanco_ hates him?"

He was quiet a while, fingertips on the coffee mug. "I lost a brother, _Hilario_…to one of Caro's… clients. My brother was just a child. Five years old."

"Oh my god. How?"

Rico gazed out the glass doors, "We were sent to this man. He got too aggressive. Strangled him."

Téa couldn't help flinching at that, at the psychology of his preferred form of masturbation. He didn't flinch at all. She tamped the thought down. "How old were you when he died?"

"I was grown…"

"Grown? Like fifteen? Older?"

"I was already nine-"

"You were still a child yourself. That's not grown."

With a kind of immovability, an eerie firmness, he said, "I was working… I knew my business. _Hilario_ did not know the business and got scared and the man… got wild and…"

_Madre de dios… _

"You saw the killing?"

He scooped up the tortilla stuffed with egg and tomato and cheese. He bit into it delicately. Eyes down, moody. He held in emotion well, practiced. That restraint is what Jedediah took as smugness, being _an arrogant prick._ He sniffed, chewing, finally swallowing and drinking the _cafe. _"I could not help him."

_Madre... _

"Do you know the killer? Would you recognize him?"

"No."

She paused, watching him pinch the bread, breaking without eating. "Why didn't he kill you too?"

"I always try to survive." A non-answer.

Her voice got soft. "Was it… on film?"

His eyes narrowed, mouth tightened into suspicion. Gazed hard at her. Shit, Téa thought. She'd gotten too close to Ken's agenda, tactlessly. He spat, "Why are you asking these questions… what _film_?"

She owed him honesty, not manipulation. "Ken McNair is an investigator. He's been helping _Blanco…_ with his work, work you're familiar with?"

He just glowered at her.

Clearing her throat, she continued, "Ken is who _Blanco_ has been sending information to. Well, the investigation turned up _film_, of _you_. Caro made movies, yes?" She caught herself, putting a hand up, trying to give him some dignity, "I have not seen them myself, I just know of them."

He lost his disconnect, Téa hitting a nerve. His breathing sped up, a pained furious gaze on Téa.

"Rico, those films make you a murder witness. You can help even more than you already have. Maybe we can even find these dead children, give them peace."

Spanish came now. "_What can I be a witness for?! I was drugged half the time! I did not understand what was happening! I don't know anything!" _He buried his face in his hands and now Téa knew he was a bundle of emotion beneath his cool cover. Utterly broken-hearted. She moved to him and held him a little but he didn't want it and pushed her away, shouting, "Don't touch me!" He just breathed, trying to regain himself just enough. Finally he spat, "I don't know anything. Tell your… KEN… that I am not worth _anything_!"

He got to his feet and Téa realized just how badly she'd really blown it. "_Rico…por favor… lo siento_… I am sorry I crossed a line. _Por favor, sientate..._"

"_La Leona..._that is what you are… bringing me here to your den… to use me in your stupid games with Caro..." He was fuming, but his eyes showed such terrible depth of hurt.

"I am so sorry, _chico... I did not intend-"_

He flew to the balcony, throwing the doors open for air. He held the railing, lowering his head, shoulders tight. Téa joined him outside. She apologized again. "I am not using you, Rico."

He was quiet a while, watching, watching. Then finally he said, "You asked if I hate Caro as much as _Blanco… He hates in a… what do you say… a recent way. A way that came up only months ago. Mine is ancient…"_

"_Do you want to kill him, the way Blanco wants to?"_

"_Killing is much too easy. Too fast. And prison is a gift. For Caro."_

"How do YOU want to deal with him?"

Rico glared into the distance, eyes on the traffic, his hair shifting in the cold breeze… said softly, "I want to eat him. _Una pieza a la vez, _one piece at a time. First his tongue… then his fingers, toes, cock, testicles. I will cut out his organs… then his eyes… ears… slowly cutting through every bit of him. Last… his heart. I want to cut him open… and hear him scream as his heart beats its last." He sniffed and stepped away a bit. Turning to her. Dark eyes… full of ancient hate.

"Rico…" She wanted to wail for him, cry out the screams of a mother, a sister, a lover… a lioness.

He shook his head, "Don't feel sorry for me. Feel sorry for the children he killed. He will pay. You and your investigators will get everything you want. I want that system torn down and think _Blanco _has it wrong, that he does have to work with you on the big thing. But Caro himself… no… we will have him. We will get him." He roved Téa's face, taking her in. The growing baby. He stood in that breeze for a long moment. Then he smiled sadly, "You want to know what he's like with me, yes? What he does?"

She knew he did not mean Caro. Shook her head violently, "No, no…no-"

_So stupid, a stupid jealous girl._

"Yes, you do. You are a straight woman whose husband has crossed a line that men like _him _are never supposed to cross." He smiled, eyes soft and as always, deeply sad. "I will tell you. _Todd Manning_ wants to UNDERSTAND. He does not. He wants… _what we do_... again and again… to put _what we do_ in a place where he can hold it and look at it and…" He huffed, eyes moving around and not finding a place to land. The wreckage was obvious. Tears floated but got pulled back. "He wants a man's touch to NOT tear him to pieces. He is not there yet. He is not done…." He whispered, "not yet."

Téa couldn't stop the tears from bubbling out, feeling sliced deep inside of her soul. He had done it again. Todd managed to break her with his endless breathtaking pain from miles away, from ages away. Through this… whore… this weeping angel. The tears rolled down his face at last. He wiped at them angrily, huffing.

"Goddamnit," she rasped, looking down, her lips parted with a kind of shock, but not really. What an astonishing reality they all lived right now.

"There is no label for him, _la leona._ He is simply…_Blanco, el león… nuestro... león. He belongs to nobody. Maybe he will always belong… only to God. Which is why he cannot seem to stay in any one place for very long. Which is why he does not die."_ He shrugged, like a kid.

"Rico…" Téa looked into his dark eyes and for an instant she wanted to kiss him. To hold him in her arms. To let him know she KNEW what it was to be ruled by _El León_, to be shattered by his kind of all-consuming love.

To be eaten by him… _una pieza a la vez._

The whore didn't have to be kissed by her to know what was in her heart. He hissed, "_Fuck_."

Téa agreed, parroting the same sentiment, shrugging, "_Fuck…"_

"What do you want me to tell him?" He asked. "What can I tell him to make a difference? He wants explosives. To do what, I do not know. He is determined."

After a moment, getting her lawyer on, eyes still full of tears, Téa said, "Keep talking to him, learn what his _ridiculous _plan is, and let me know. I want him back cooperating with us. With the investigator. You also need to tell him that his madness is on Juarez's radar. And that's a very bad thing. For him."

"Who is Juarez?"

"Too long a story. Rico… _Todd Manning… _is capable of incredible violence, but… he also has a way of drawing bad karma. Things go wrong for him, for innocents… sometimes. It's just God's way of balancing him out. He makes mistakes when he acts out of such passion and people he doesn't intend to hurt, get hurt. So… maybe… YOU…. beautiful YOU…" She smiled, her eyes wet with love, with sorrow. "Maybe you can help slow him down. Maybe he can… dance with you…. run in the ocean a little. Maybe you can continue to help him understand who he is…. without it tearing him to pieces. If you want to. Only if you want to."

He laughed bitterly, wetness still in his own eyes, "You want me to still fuck him, that's what you're saying. No surprise, I am a whore, yeah? That's what I do, _verdad?_"

She grabbed him by the shoulders now, shook him in a kind of desperate way. "NO! I ask because you are his FRIEND. Because in his own way, he loves you. He would not keep you, look for you… NOT hurt you… if he didn't _love you. _And because of that, you might have pull with him. You MIGHT be able to get him to see reason."

He turned away, her words far too painful. Whispered, "He does not love me."

"In his way… he does. It might not be the romantic kind of love… but it is _his _kind, whatever he's capable of… for you. But do what you WANT. If you want to run away right now… you are free to do it. You are free to move on with your life. I will make sure he can't touch you, or find you… You can even just stay here with me, in this room, and work with us on Caro. I will protect you. You CAN leave Todd to his own madness. Just know…" Now her tears flowed again, "He WILL be stopped. Juarez is coming and he will stop my husband dead in his tracks." Téa gasped with the sudden reality of her own words. Awareness coming to her… Juarez would kill Todd. She knew that like she knew the sun would rise in the morning. God, god...

"Rico… it's all up to you. Do what you want to do. It is your choice."

* * *

The walk to the beach house from the red light district was so much farther than Todd remembered. Maybe being without heroin since midnight made it so. Fifteen, sixteen hours since he'd pressed that needle into his vein and flew into the bliss. He stopped and hunched at the intense pain in his stomach. God, god… addiction had grabbed him like a mother to her missing child, cleaving to his body so hard he couldn't breathe.

FUCK.

He ran to the bushes at the side of the road and vomited all the water he'd been drinking. Wiped his mouth when he was done. Knowing more was coming. How many days since Raquel first graced him with black tar? Three? _Four_? Jesus. He felt like he'd been using for months. He kept walking, sweating even though it was only sixty degrees… maybe less. His jeans and boots and t-shirt and jacket weren't thin enough. Legs started to cramp. He limped more than usual. The distance blurred with pain and want. He shed the jacket. letting the thing just fall off him, left in the road.

Needed to get to the beach house, though, needed his dog. Needed Abram to watch over him because he knew the fucking seizures were coming, the white, too, the blankness, the absence of being… the madness over everything. He was helpless, like a baby. Raquel had a life, she couldn't constantly tend to him and Rico was gone…

She had confused him. Raquel made him realize that he couldn't keep using because he was impotent when he was high… useless in a war to save children. He couldn't think straight. His plan… was stupid. No parameters. No real structure. He only saw fire and death and for a while that had been good enough. But then she confused him… over and over asking questions.

_What kind of explosives, my friend?_

_I don't know… the kind that blows up._

_They all blow up. What sort of detonator do you want?_

_Can you get me this shit?_

_Depends. What kind of detonator? A cell phone? A button? A lever? How big should the explosion be? Ten feet diameter? Twenty-five feet? An apartment building? A block?  
_

_I don't know… I don't know! A house… a house._

_Is the house connected to other houses? Or is it alone, on the beach… where is this house? How many people do you need to kill? Are you sure there will be nobody innocent there? A cook? A whore who is dragged into the house? What about children like little Alicia? You told me you did not know she was in the house… that night. Maybe there will be more surprises._

_I DON'T KNOW!_

_You are too stoned to know these things. Would you like another shot? I have more black tar._

_Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Where is Rico? Where is he?_

_I don't know, my friend. He has been gone for two days. He is probably fucking his customers. What kind of explosives do you want?_

_I don't know! I don't know… I want them all dead. I just want them all dead. What do you mean his customers?_

_What kind of detonator do you want? What kind of explosives do you want?_

_I don't know… I don't know… oh god… his customers._

_How many people will be there? How do you know the children won't be there?_

_SHUT UP! WHERE IS RICO?!_

_What kind of explosives do you want?_

Over and over. He was…_confused._

He sniffed back his perpetually runny nose as he saw the beach house in the distance. He had checked some bars but it was early still. He did not know where Rico had gone and it hurt him like more addiction. Like the absence of yet another drug. He was afraid Rico was hooking again… afraid he was using his belt on himself… maybe he was lying dead somewhere. Maybe he asked a john to do it and the guy just let him die. He stopped walking because pain blossomed up through him and he heard himself crying because kicking was killing him. He wondered where Téa was. Wondered if she was fucking Rolon some more…

Laughter bubbled up, madness…. No, the soldier would be nursing his wounds. 'Cause when someone fucked you with a gun, you didn't forget that shit. Plus he wanted to kill _Blanco _for that so he'd be too angry to get with Téa… too ruined. Good. Real GOOD. He got confused at that, thinking maybe he didn't just use a gun. Thinking ugly thoughts and then he was a child again and Peter was thrusting into his mouth like he did sometimes… and he was on his knees and moaning softly into the dirt. He needed to get high again but he couldn't because he couldn't think straight, but this wasn't any better.

"FUCK!"

He pulled himself together as best he could. Got to his feet and kept walking. He was cold now and his jacket was too far away. Kept trudging along. People sometimes passed by and he growled at them. Hair swinging, damp from uncontrollable perspiration and that shifted to hellish coldness. The ocean soothed him though, the waves telling him he was close. His hair was in his eyes and then he saw the beach house through the strands. He shivered from the cold.

He heard Abram and he ran the rest of the way, his boots heavy and bad for running. He couldn't open the door though and he forgot where the key was so he pounded hard on the wood, pounded until the side of his hand bled. The door opened and there was Gloria and her face told him exactly what he looked like.

"_Blanco! _Oh my god… come in, come in…"

He collapsed onto her and she reached for the wall as they both fell to the ground. He just lay on her, panting, head on her chest, legs sprawled on the hard floor. The door stayed open and the cold sea wind flowed over them. She then moved to the wall for needed support, struggling beneath his weight. She put her arms around him at last, whispering, "Okay, okay, okay." Her chin rested on the top of his hot head. Pedro was gone and she was thankful. She did not need the complication… _Blanco _didn't need it. Abram was on them, too, sniffing and whimpering, so worried for his person, his charge that he did not forget in these days of absence. _Blanco _had shut his eyes and almost seemed to be sleeping but he opened them and let Abram lick his face. He stretched and pet the dog's mug, scratching him behind his ears.

Todd eased himself off Gloria and moved next to her, against the wall. Abram sat in between his legs, resting his big head against Todd's chest with soulful eyes. Warming him.

"You're sick," Gloria said. "Heroin?"

He grunted a response. _Yes_, she figured. "I don't have anything," she said.

"I know," he said weakly.

"Are you back? To stay? Pedro is here. He… will be fine with you here. He hasn't forbidden it or anything. I think-"

"I just want clothes. Is… is… Rico here?" He didn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the dog. Keeping busy by petting the dog. Sweat beaded along his face and neck and he stretched his legs, the cramps getting to him. He grunted softly.

"No, he's not. And he has not been here either."

He shook his head. Aching. Paranoid and afraid. Got to his feet, slowly, like an old man. He walked upstairs, Abram following. Stepped into his old room and stood there in the middle, eyes all over. The unforgiving floor where Pedro's blood spilled, the slats that scratched his back, the balcony where Rico first pulled him inside and into his bed in the alcove. There… where he slept and watched him and Gloria sometimes. He walked to the small outcrop and sat on the bed. He lay back and looked at the lines on the ceiling. The bed smelled like the sea, like the crook of Rico's neck.

He groaned at the pain from kicking and sat back up. He turned and looked at the pillow. Sticking out from under the pillow was a notebook. He grabbed it and flipped through the pages. Just a few. Pencil drawings, sayings, all kinds of shit. He had no idea Rico drew at all. He saw an empty messenger bag and grabbed it up, sticking the notebook inside.

He slowly got to his feet and grabbed up clothes, some of Rico's and some of his own. He didn't get that kid. Didn't understand why he felt like he did. What was any of this? _Fuck_. He just didn't want him dead, you know? He couldn't let that happen to him, the way it happened to Brandy. He'd left her to the wilds… he would not abandon Rico.

But he was worried that he already did.

He left quickly, hardly a goodbye to Gloria. Held the dog on the leash, the bag across his shoulder. The afternoon was fading fast and he hoofed it on the road, still sick, not caring that he looked a disaster. When a taxi passed, he flagged it down. The taxi rolled backwards and he tumbled inside of it. Abram was happy to hang his head out the window. He smashed money into the hand of the driver. Gave him the address of the _casita. _He needed a little dope to just get through the night… then he'd start over.

Get off it again… so he could think straight.

_What kind of explosives do you want? What kind of detonator? How will you know there are no innocents in the house?_

Tears came to him at the shock of pain in his gut, at the cramps. He hunched and buried a hand in Abram's thick furred flesh. The dog moved close to him and licked his face. Soothing the agony. And in the heat of it, he saw Téa's face and he wept more openly, a hand over his mouth to stop the choking sound. He hurt so bad at thinking of her that he forced it out of his head. He was already dead. He was so fucking dead in this world. No children, no family, no nothing. He had to accept that. So he could do what he needed to do.

_Go away, Delgado. Go home to our babies. There is nothing left to save._

When he arrived at the house he got out and went inside. He unhitched the bag and climbed the stairs, following Abram, and opened the door to his room…

And there was Rico, standing in front of him, just steps from the door… and all Todd could do was drop the bag and look at him, thanking god he wasn't dead. That he hadn't fucking blown this one small thing, that little promise he made that he wouldn't abandon Rico. Tomorrow, yeah, he'd get straight and start his grand plan… the plan to blow Caro's empire to kingdom-fucking-come. But now, he just needed to feel his _mari, _because life was shit and he was kicking and he felt goddamn hopeless.

Rico looked at his lion from head to toe, such a mess, so sick. Abram made noise across the room but then quieted. "_Blanco…"_

"_Where you been, mari? Why did you go? Why did you leave me?"_

"_I just needed space…" _ Rico didn't say it was _Blanco _calling for his Delgado in his deep high that chased him into the night.

Todd looked his _mari _in the eyes and pulled him into his arms, just feeling him, putting his head on his shoulder. "I thought something happened to you," he breathed. "I thought you died. I thought you used that fucking scarf or belt or whatever and died." He whimpered and held him tighter, so tight Rico could barely get a breath in, and then all Todd could do was kiss him hard on the mouth, cold hands on his face and then the back of his neck, not hearing the objection, not feeling the slight push on his chest… _shaky resistance. _

Rico squeezed shut his eyes… feeling a scratchy smooth tongue, tasting fear and corrupted ever-confused want… and heroin sickness. He reached up and grabbed stringy sea-blown hair, his other hand on _Blanco's _arm. Tried to get him to stop, pressing palms on his rough bearded face.

"_Blanco… Blanco… talk to me."_

But the kisses only got harder and Rico felt himself getting turned and pushed backwards towards the bed. Noisy boots and tennis shoes scraped the hardwood floor, Todd pushing him onto his back on the soft messed bed linens, and fast, fast, put first one knee on the bed and then the other, straddling Rico. Hair hung in face, blocking all vision other than the man beneath him.

"_Blanco… not now, okay?"_

Hands landed flat on either side of his _mari, _and he hunched over him, a ragged whisper saying, _"Now… please, now…" _

And when the whore dragged disbelieving _oh-shit-oh-shit_ eyes across the low-lit room, the sun on its last legs, his lion pressed heated lips on his neck and slipped a hand beneath him onto his lower back, bringing him hard up against him. Slid knees down so he lay flat on Rico who gasped at the weight, at _Blanco's _hardness digging in, hips rocking to get friction. Hurtful insistent _movement. _Rico turned his head slightly, arms on his lover and huffing from the sudden heat he couldn't seem to stop, having expected a fist and being shocked at its absence. He looked far over to the windows…

...as _Blanco _rasped, "Touch me… tell me not to be afraid… _mari, mari..._"

... such pained words as Rico craned his neck to see Téa Delgado standing at the dresser, slamming back into the corner of the room, the safest place to be… seeing her slowly slide down the plaster, her own brown eyes wide in surprise...her hand to her mouth… afraid to even breathe. Afraid to make a sound. The dog covered her as if he was in on this terrible situation. She did not want to surprise Todd. She did not want him to feel what she did. Because to see her _amor grande, _her broken, wounded panther… in a state of such profound vulnerability, in the arms of another…

_... it rather cut her to pieces._

_Fuck._

**To be continued….**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Caged: Retribution_**

**Chapter 3**

_Touch me… tell me not to be afraid... mari, mari..._

They had never intended to go to the room, but Rico didn't want Téa to wait outside and promised, _Blanco is out looking for me_. Which hurt but she had no claim to him, how could she, so she climbed the stairs of the quaint house with the fine decorations and the easy ocean breeze flowing through open windows. The sun was sinking, inside a canvas of golds, reds, and shadowy whites. She watched Rico ascend, his body lithe and unstressed. Unlike her. With her baby, with her changing form, her gait beginning to be affected.

And he was right. Todd wasn't at _la casita._ He _was _most likely searching for his missing lover because that's what he does. Gets possessive…he will find them. And by lover that could mean Rico or heroin. She should have known he'd return. Common sense screamed at her to get out, but she allowed herself to be lulled into safety. Rico wanted to show Téa his other notebook he'd stashed, the one with his plans to bring _libertad_ across Havana. _Liberty… _reproduced in all sorts of shapes and colors. In all sorts of illicit places. Like his dancing stars.

It had been a surreal afternoon. She and Rico finished breakfast and in the silence of decision-making, they began to talk. Enough for them to warm to each other despite their _connection._ He had intended on leaving, armed with information yet still undecided on any plan, and she walked him down. When they got outside, Téa saw a star, his _dancing _star on the building across the street, and he flashed a rare small smile. Before long they embarked on a tour of personally vandalized property, especially government buildings. Walking like he did, cigarette dangling between fingers, he was discreet in identifying his work. He'd look in the direction of it, indicating its location quietly, and there it would be… the dancing happy star, oh-so-illegal. Some were so impossibly placed that nobody could remove them. He said, _they cannot reach it. _It was in those stuck high stars that Téa saw Rico's power. His small private grin as he gazed up, his eyes bright, for once the haunted look in them gone.

_Does Blanco know you paint the city?  
_

_No._

_Of course not. He's too selfish, too single-minded._

_No, because I choose not to tell him._

Which meant she and Rico shared an unspoken truth, a commonality: they both held secret bits of themselves beyond and apart from...

_Blanco._

_Su amor._

_El León._

_Todd._

Téa then said Rico was a Cuban Spider Man... which made him _really _laugh, a deep-toned rolling laugh. They described the tights and she said he'd look pretty sexy in them and he said he wouldn't be caught dead dressed like that. He grinned as he spoke, cig hanging out of his mouth just like Todd, to the side, careless, about to drop.

When Todd had pulled Rico into him, a hard relieved pull, Téa recognized the layered, desperate want. When he pressed his lips to Rico's… _so he kisses him… _biting, rough kisses, sickness draping his whole being, her heart jumped because she felt them on her skin, on her own mouth, like one of Todd's body memories. The sensation drove her to the floor, to bury her face against her raised stockinged knee. She folded tight arms over her ears and hid behind proud-seated black Abram. The last time they laid eyes on each other devastated them.

So she hid like a child, like a thief.

But with a voyeur's compulsion she looked once more. Saw Todd pushing Rico onto the bed, getting on top… _so he lays with him_... embracing him with his whole body, _feeling _him. Rico was straining to see her, working to resist that force on him, but then he sighed, an audible aching sound, and he pitched his head back and he seemed to… _give… _GOD she knew how hard it was to stop _el león_. She knew. Then… then... she heard the soul-deep anguish in Todd's voice and she bit down, hiding once more. Tears burned and she pressed back to make herself smaller, as invisible as possible. Feeling the kick of the gun in her hands...

_You used that scarf... why you do that? Is it my fault?_

God, god, no matter her efforts, she couldn't escape the heated breathy struggle on the bed, the ragged talk, the scent of fear and sweat and the citified sea coming in above her head. The morning Esperanza was conceived, Téa had wondered how a person could disconnect from a rape. She felt him all along every inch of her, being oh-so-himself… wanting to get inside of her deeper, deeper than physically possible without tearing things, constantly shifting his hold to open her up more. She could not disconnect.

But now… _now… _in the most distant of ways, she felt a lifting above herself, a running madly, wildly, into the last of the afternoon's light. Anything to not see what was on the bed, _en la Casa Particular de Sylvia..._

_What's the matter? What's wrong? Have I hurt you?_

* * *

Rico could hardly breathe beneath the weight and want of his lion. His hair was caught up in _Blanco's_ fist, his body trapped by powerful limbs. He held his lover by his t-shirt at the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. They clashed against the other, more a fight of wills than the start of a fuck because Rico was _resisting. _

A part of him wanted to give in… touch him all over, tear his shirt off, get into his pants, kiss him back until he's gasping for air. He wanted to flip over onto his belly and slip his jeans down. Open himself up to be fucked inside. _Do it, mí león, take me, hurt me just a little._ He also wanted to pull _Blanco_ up higher so he would be straddling his chest, so he could take his stiff cock into his mouth. Let _Blanco_ use those strong legs to pump his dick into a warm wet sucking mouth until he comes. Rico… wanted… so much to give anything, more than everything, to his lion even if it was all wrong and could never lead to…anything.

_You used that scarf... why you do that? Is it my fault?_

Rico shuddered because _Blanco_ was on his neck, kissing the marks, his tongue wetting the tender skin, like he could somehow take them away or maybe he wanted to add to them...

_I needed it, I had to feel that… Blanco, you have to stop…_

Another part of him wanted to grab onto the humiliation. To shame and embarrass _La Leona. _To show her the heat of her man, the sword at his belly and his rolled eyes and parted lips saying _fuck…_ getting a _husband_ in front of a _wife_ to show himself, to show his most raw self. He thrusted upwards beyond his control at that. _Coño, _a few more jerks and he'd be coming in his jeans… he groaned at the pain of it.

But he couldn't do any of it.

He liked _Delgado_ and it wasn't fair this shit was happening. He had been careless, eager to show her his big fucking plans of painting Havana because he liked how his art made her smile, the dancing stars in her eyes when she looked up at them. And he knew _Blanco _wouldn't be there because he'd seen him while he and Téa were on the surprise tour, saw him heading to the beach house, hunched and sick and hair hanging. Walking, walking. Hands in his jacket pockets. _Where did the jacket go? _Téa hadn't noticed, gazing in another direction and Rico said nothing. So he knew the place would be empty when they got there. But they'd taken too long on their walk and he miscalculated how long _Blanco _would be gone, or how short.

So Rico slid a knee out and grabbed onto his lion's hair and an arm. Huffed, "_STOP!" _ And with all his strength he knew would be unexpected, pushed back so forcefully that he got _Blanco_ onto his back on the bed, with Rico now on top, breathing fast and looking down at wounded eyes, at grey and brown strands stuck to his forehead and cheek… sweating from illness, fear… his ever-present hate of the world.

"_What's the matter? What's wrong? Have I hurt you?"_

"No, no, no…," he said quietly. Rico worried at his brow and he caressed his lion's beard and dipped down so he could explain, lips at his ear. How innocent the man sounded, almost childlike in his concern. Gently pressing his head to Todd's, Rico said, "I am sorry. We are not alone in the room."

"Abram isn't a person-"

"Abram is not, but the other is very much a person."

"Wh-what?" Todd looked around, hands loosely on Rico's jacket, but because of his position and the low light in the room, he saw nothing. Rico slid off him, Todd sitting up, turning. He saw Abram… and then… he rasped, _"Jesus fucking Christ." _

He saw her directly behind the dog, huddled in the corner of the room… his Téa, looking small and tight, her face hidden beneath her folded arms and falling hair, and Abram. The dog eyed Todd with that ever-judgmental unwavering gaze.

_God fucking damnit..._

Todd slammed eyes back to Rico, his face a mask of shock, confusion… a mad fury. After a couple of agonized beats, he hissed, "What is this? Why… wh-why is she here? What the FUCK are you all up to?"

"We met… accidentally-"

He groaned with a mix of anger and horror and shame… and whatever fucking else was flying around inside of his messed-up self. A million things. The heroin sick roiled now, unfettered. "What the FUCK? What the FUCK?!"

Rico reached a hand and grabbed Todd's arm, a firm hold, haunted brown eyes staring, fierce now. They were both panting from stress and interrupted sex. "She did not mean this, _Blanco._ It is my fault she is here-"

Todd growled, so stunned to see Téa he couldn't even curse, and yanked his arm out of Rico's grasp. Flew off the bed. Téa was now looking up, now unapologetic for being where she shouldn't. His killer had dug in, yeah, got cool and prideful and no longer small. She sniffed, put her chin up. Her eyes never left his. _Look at you, look at my true Delgado. _He took careful steps to her, standing over her. Stringy hair hung over his face, his lips parted slightly. His chest rose and fell, every part of him trembling… his whole body humming with _hate_. The monster he'd become.

"_Por favor, perdóname por estar aquí_," she said raggedly. "_Perdóname, perdóname…" _ She was strong in her words, holding his gaze, her eyes not weepy or soft or even womanly. She slowly got to her feet. Stood like mother fucking earth. He dropped his light eyes to the rounded womb beneath her full breasts.

_I am Esperanza._

He snorted at the gall of it… what fucking HOPE?! The scars on his chest burned him, the entire pathway through his body alive with the Great Betrayal. He grunted softly, still smelling the sea on Rico, tasting the salt on his neck, and feeling his strength when he pushed him off. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Growled like animal, a low rumble reverberating through him.

"I am sorry," Téa said, her eyes pleading.

Like a viper, he grabbed her by the hair and she gasped at it. He looked at her like prey… but she… she had the fucking nerve to look right back at him with no fear. Her eyes were just as hard, just as unmoved as they'd been when she was on the floor… looking up at him. He eyed her in his hands, moving her… in perverse evaluation. Where to bite first? Her neck, her side, her ass… maybe throw her on the ground and smash down on her chest, ripping her open so he could eat her heart. He shook her hard one time and she flexed her jaw, her lips tight… not wavering. Not an inch.

"_Blanco, let her go! She is a mother!"_

He shuddered in direct response to the words and jerked her slightly. Once more. Said raggedly, "She is no mother to me."

"_She is a mother to your children...to the one inside of her."_

"If you don't stop talking, Rico, I will _fucking _murder you where you stand."

Téa put her hands up, laid them on his chest, repeated in a heated whisper, "_Perdóname, mí amor, mí vida. _I hurt you… and I am sorry to the depth of my soul._"_

The words seemed to move Todd, if only the smallest bit… his eyes moved to her mouth as if trying to see the words repeated. And in his growl, there was the barest thread of a whimper. Hurt. Wounded-ness. Téa sighed. "I am sorry. I am so sorry."

"I cannot hear these words," he rasped in her ear. "They mean nothing to me. They are as _empty_ as you… because you have no fucking soul."

She reached up and touched his cheek with backs of her fingers and she saw again his eyelids dip. Sorrow. "I am sorry," she repeated. "_Lo siento… mucho, mucho…"_

He wanted to kill her. He wanted so much to do right back to her what she'd done to him and it made the screaming betrayal louder in his head. The noise was so loud he lifted his head and gasped at the madness of it. Then he looked back at her and the hurt was coming like a fucking hurricane and he didn't want to feel that because it was too hard, too real, too _truthful_. And right behind that, the sickness came, his reality. He whimpered again, this time more noisily and he tightened his grip on her.

"Todd… please hear me…"

"_Let go, mí león. You do not want to hurt her. This was not her fault. I brought her here…"_

"You don't know what she did to me," he murmured.

"She shot you because she was afraid for her children. She was afraid of you."

Rico was close enough to be felt and it took everything in Todd not to look at him… to not punch the shit out of him. But he couldn't take his eyes off unflinching Téa. He growled, "She is a cold betraying… _cunt_."

"A _cunt _you will love until you die," she whispered.

"I am dead already… so I don't fuckin' love you! I am done loving you!" He shook her as he said those words to hurt her and she shut her eyes as he did it.

But then… she said, "You lie, _mí amor_." And now her eyes swam, glossy mocha-browns on his…fingertips on his beard, "You are not dead. I see it in your kisses of Rico, how you hold him beneath you, and move so hard against him… my god…" Tears broke free and ran down her silky skin… "You are so very much alive."

In that second they saw each other. The truth of who they were. Their whole lives before today, before that night in the kitchen and blood ran hot out of his body… before everything became known... before… before…

Lucia laughed in his head in the early morning and Téa breathed _I love you _as he made love to her in their bed late at night. Learning her for real, learning to be free of Statesville. The wind flowed through the trees outside their bedroom window while wolves howled in the distance… then the scent of coffee and newspaper filled his nose as he woke, blissful home… true peace… the sun shined through the glass doors and Téa looked at him from the couch and smiled knowingly and said, "_The baby, the baby is coming… we need to go…" _ and they raced to the hospital because Reese was fighting to get out… and she held his hand in the delivery room as she gritted her teeth and pushed that child out and she never screamed, never cried, just pushed with that earthy grunt of a billion women before her all the way to Eve… and said… "_your boy is is going to be a king…like you…" _ And then she lay in that bed with the boy in her arms and she looked at him and said, "_You… you are my love, my light, my everything..."_

He believed in something back then… she believed in him.

"You left me," he whispered.

"I know," she said, the tears easy now. "I am sorry. But you… you left me, too."

He released her and stepped back, sitting on the bed, deflated, all his raging energy gone. She'd opened him up and he was bleeding from deep inside. She shouldn't have done that… he wished she hadn't done that. Pain stabbed at him, heroin sickness and intimate beloved misery, and it was only by the grace of God that he wasn't puking at his _Delgado's_ feet. Perspiration prickled the back of his neck and he was fast disconnecting because _god, god,_ he did not want to be here in this moment, in this place, in this life. He needed to be gone.

"Todd?"

"_Blanco?"_

Abram jumped on the bed and got close to him. But it wasn't enough to stop the flow. He looked down and ugly crazy-making memories washed up around his boots like the sea's tide. He could see Peter and Caro… rising from the current, grabbing at him now, taking him down...

_Oh shit,_ he said, _oh fucking shit. _

He heard talking… words flying over him... they were hurried and intense and fast. He breathed in and out, in and out. _Everything_ swept up in a tsunami of recall, and he saw the past around him, HD 3D real, ohhhh his mind's favorite hallucinations. Alive and fucking WELL. He could drown in them. He felt the linens in his hands, felt Abram… _Abram_… but then he knew he was fighting his attackers, kicking hard at them, uselessly fighting because he was only a child and he had no power in his punch.

Pain fired through him, his choking need for heroin racing in his head and veins and he knew he was puking now, vomiting every bit of bile inside of him. Someone held him, a tight unyielding grip… the shit coming up from the core of him. He felt like he was throwing up everything that had ever happened to him. Over and over and over.

"Fuck," he groaned, wanting just a little dope to end this. Yeah, he needed just a little… because Caro and Peter were tearing him up and he felt it… he felt _everything_. The bullets too, tearing through him, making him cough up blood, the taste of metal in his mouth. And he was fighting again, fighting for his life, because someone was holding him down and if he didn't fight he would die. But then the white surrounded him, insulating him, protecting him. A different white than before. A manufactured white. A powdered white. He gasped… an orgasm that happened in his head and rolled through him like the ocean. Ohhhhh….. he grabbed onto the salty current and just floated, feeling nothing. No hate, no anger, no love either. Just being.

He breathed… and sighed… and lived in the white now… thanking god… getting on his knees and thanking FUCKING GOD.

* * *

He felt warmth, a deep blissful warmth, and he opened his eyes just enough. The craziness was gone and oh shit… he knew it was heroin that had saved him because Raquel was on the bed next to him and he was stoned. She was holding his arm in hers and pressing on the crook of his elbow. Rubbing something there. But then he realized it wasn't only his elbow. She was wiping him down with a cool cloth all over and it felt so good. Up and down his arm, along his shoulder, across and down his chest and belly. She reached across him and he smelled her… delicious scent of sweet bread. He was lying back against Rico. In between his legs, head on his chest, the zipper of the purple jacket cold on his back.

Todd was well in the present now. Stretched out. No boots on, no socks… no shirt… jeans only. They'd stripped him.

Téa leaned on the dresser, hands back on the smooth wood, her head turned, eyes out the window. Her feet were crossed, her black dress to her knees, her boots beneath the hem. Her beautiful profile, luscious dark hair he knew the feel of. Her body was rounder...fuller… It was raining and street lights were shining and the drops could be seen. Falling glistening rhythmic light in the black. He turned his head just a little and could hear Rico's heartbeat.

Téa said in an even tone, in Spanish, "_She moves when she hears his voice. She moves more here in Havana. Like she knows he's here. Madness. My own madness."_

Raquel gazed at Todd, the smallest smile as she silently recognized his consciousness, and he looked back at her. She responded to Téa quietly, "_It is probably true that she feels him, but I believe more that she feels you, and your feelings for him. Be careful… a mother's emotions will determine the child's personality."_

"_That's true," _she said. "_My son is exactly as we were when my husband returned from Statesville… he clings to me, seems to want to go back into my womb. He is afraid of the dark… but Lucia was conceived before he left for prison… after we found each other again… and she's excited to live life…"_

Todd shuddered because now the cloth was too cold and it got Rico's attention. "You are awake," he said.

Téa turned back and saw him. "Are you okay, _amor_?"

_Amor. Amor. _Delgado was as insane as he was. He sighed, "I'm high. I was trying to get off… why am I high?" He moaned though because it felt delicious, rubbing his head against Rico. He felt his heat… warmth at the top of his head, around him. He felt so good… it all felt so good.

Raquel explained, _"I had no choice, Blanco. You were seeing things, you were fighting… you were violently ill. Your heart was too strained… you needed calm. Téa said you have an uneven heart rhythm. You could not go on like that. We will try again tomorrow. No heroin."_

"Easy for you to say."

Rico caressed Todd's wrist now, a touch that got Todd to look at him. To reach up and touch his face. To see if he was real, if any of this shit was real. He sighed in his heroin bliss... eyes back on Téa… on the falling rain.

Raquel got up and stepped over to Téa, placing a hand on her belly. She listened, felt about. Raquel smiled at her when the baby kicked. _"The baby is well. Strong. She will be born sooner than you might expect. Perhaps she, too, will be like your Lucia. Eager for life. While you are here in Havana… come to me if you need any assistance." _She glanced at Todd, then added, "_He will be unhappy again tomorrow. I'll come back."_

"_Thank you…" _ Téa smiled sadly and hugged Raquel. Whispered _thank you _again. Raquel left the room, taking one last concerned study of _Blanco_ before she shut the door.

The rain came down in an easy constant beat accompanied by a stream of water pouring out a spout. Distant rumbling could be heard and it sounded dark and foreboding. Todd watched the rain but drifted… a little pissed-off but never regretting the wonderment of heroin. Must have been bad for Raquel to dose him up. He didn't even want to know. He eyed Téa… and she shook her head at him. Amusement? He had no idea what would be so fucking funny.

"What you laughin' at?" He said, knowing his voice was rough, his words slanted in his dopey buzz.

"I'm not laughing, I'm smiling at you. At how relaxed you are. I haven't seen you this relaxed in… I don't know how long. You are… soothed."

Keeping focused was hard. He fought to stay awake. He turned and looked at Rico… at those dark eyes. "I was sick… did I make a mess?"

"No… you aim pretty good… hitting the bowl right. We called Raquel when the blood came."

Todd sighed again, eyes on the darkness. "What about Rolon… won't yo' dog be worried 'bout you, _Delgado? _It's way pas' yo' bedtime._"_

"I let him know I was safe. And Jed, too. I told them I was with you… and Rico. Rolon has no say anyway."

"Don't let her walk back alone, yeah?"

"She's staying here. Sleep, _mí león._ Let everything go. Sleep."

It was strange the power of suggestion. All his worries just disappeared. He did let everything go… he closed his eyes and drifted in the dark. Walked hand in hand with the Princess that once ruled his life and was threatening to rule it again.

* * *

Téa lay on her side, next to Todd who lay peacefully asleep. She had been looking at her husband for a long while, counting his even breaths, fingertips on his beard… he was truly resting, his mind no longer tormented. It was a strange place to be, here in the dark, next to him again after so long apart. She saw the bullet wounds… the scars. A rough reality for her. It had broken her to watch Raquel inject him in the bathroom, Todd kicking out on the tiles, fighting unseen attackers, blood on his lips from the intense retching, then crying out for the drugs to stop the crazy. He was sane enough to recognize that the world was spinning out of control and that he needed help. Rico held him down while Raquel tied him off, working to find a good vein. Even knowing he was getting dope hadn't stopped him from fighting.

_Please, please, please… don't let them kill me… ohhhh yeah, ohhhh yeah…. _

Rico was on the other side of him, looking to be sleeping, too. He'd woken up at some point and like a sleep-walker, stripped his jacket and t-shirt and shoes. Fell back hard on the bed, beat. Lay now with his back to them both. Curled up on his side.

The rain danced outside, falling in intermittent showers. The thunder banged in the distance, the storm seeming to be moving closer. Lightning lit up the room every so often. A yellow streetlamp gave the room a ghostly feel and the humidity weighed down the air. She stretched on the bed like a cat before climbing out. Went to the bathroom. She took off everything. Took a fast shower, the water warm and relaxing. Todd was much sicker than she previously realized. She hadn't seen him that lost in his past since over ten years ago… right after his conviction for the kidnapping. It had frightened her to see him lose his sense of reality to that degree. Terrifying. To go from a moment of hating her… to sudden sadness… right to his mental illness. This was serious.

Rico had handled it well, calmly. Kept Téa out of the fight, worried for the baby. He was strong, like she knew. He could hold Todd and keep him in place. He was so patient...

_Stay back, chica, he will hurt you… I can handle him._

She came back to the room… back in her knit dress, wishing for her suitcase. She stood a moment… the floor cold beneath her feet. She folded the rest of her clothes in a pile on the dresser. She needed to eat, her stomach growling. _Esperanza _was hungry. Raquel had said the kitchen was stocked so she headed downstairs. Sleep not possible. She thought of Rolon. God, he'd been furious with her and her repeated disappearing acts but she had stood her ground. Said she wanted to stay, she needed to stay.

_I'm not afraid anymore, Rolon. He won't hurt me. I'll see you tomorrow._

_Woman!_

There were a few lights on, not enough to chase away ghosts but enough for her to be brave. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plate of _empanadas,_ meat-filled pastries. She pulled the bottle of milk out. Sat at the table and ate silently. Drank right from the bottle. In the kitchen. Another kitchen so far away from her own. She tried not to think of things. A noise made her look up. The bathroom… water… someone was awake. She ate a little more… the water upstairs stopping. She heard a door. Heard footsteps.

Eyes up once more.

In the doorway leaned Todd, shirtless, jeans only. Bare feet. She could smell the good smell of the soap. And JESUS… she had to take a breath because there in the low light was the man she knew as her husband. Tall, strong, lean muscles, dark expression on his face. Damp hair hanging. His cut arms were crossed, tattoos beneath just as Jedediah had mentioned… boasting complete commitment to the Mambo Kings. His strength was in his posture… he could kill someone. But there in his eyes was the wounded panther, lips pressed tight. He had a lot to hide, a lot to share. This man… god…

"Eat with me," she said. "Talk to me. We haven't talked in a long time."

He didn't move for a minute, debating maybe, but then he dragged himself off the doorframe and sat at the table across from her. He brooded, picking at the _empanada._

"How are you feeling," she asked. He didn't answer, just continuing his study of her, finally taking a bite of the pastry. He chewed slowly and god, Téa ached at it. He was mainlining heroin and so went his appetite. He ate like he would throw it up any second. Probably would. He took a drink of milk to help choke down the rest of the single bite.

Raggedly asked, "Why are you here?"

"I ran into Rico yesterday. We talked. He was so tired he fell asleep in my room. We had breakfast… ended up spending the afternoon together. He had something to show me. He said you wouldn't be here… the rest is history."

Todd eyed her, something unreadable on his face, "He slept in your room?"

Téa smiled… but then pulled back, covering with a swig of milk. "We didn't sleep together if that's what you're wondering."

"Haha very funny," he said quietly. He ran a finger on the plate. Eyed her again. There was so much in his gaze and Téa wanted to shake it out of him. She knew she couldn't. They needed time. This would take… time.

He swallowed. Wiped his mouth, eyes on the darkness beyond her. Asked, "How is the baby? How are you?"

"I'm okay, she is fine. A girl."

"I know. Jed told me. _Esperanza."_

"Yes."

"You should go home."

"I'm not going home until I know you are okay. Today… tonight, I learned you are not okay. You are sick. Like before… like the time you had to be in a hospital. You are the one who needs to go home."

He didn't argue. He sighed painfully… fingers on his closed eyes. He rubbed his hair. Now his expression told her more. "I remember things and they are making me crazy. But… I need to take care of shit before I leave here. Primarily, killing Manuel Caro and maybe Pedro Moreno… and every other fucker who works for them."

"You are on Juarez's radar. He is very upset. If you don't start cooperating, he's going to arrest you but I suspect that he'd consider shooting you on sight."

"Let him try. He'll just go the way of Caro and Moreno."

"Like that man… in the room… the one you strangled."

He paused. Ran his tongue slowly across his lower lip with cold dead eyes. "He had to die. He raped a little girl… in front of me. I had to kill him."

"Baby…"

"Don't. You did not SEE IT."

Téa ate another bite, studying him as she chewed, then swallowed. Yes, her husband could kill someone. Took another swig of milk. Breathed deeply. She reached across the table and when she tried to touch his hand, he jerked it back, a hard huff forced from him. He was immediately on guard. He was afraid and Téa could have cried.

"I'm sorry…," she said.

Tears welled in his eyes, surprisingly easy, and he said, admitted, "I don't trust you. And I still fucking hate you. You shot me… twice. Like once wasn't enough."

Téa nodded, her own hurt suddenly in her throat. "I know. Give us time, okay? Let me… prove… that you're safe."

He shook his head, "No, no, no… it's stupid. I am stupid. I know what happened. I get it. I know how scared you were of ME. I am the one to be afraid of… not you. I hate you… but I don't. Okay?" His breathing normalized. Asked what he'd been dreading to hear. "How is Lucia? Reese?"

Téa worked to not burst into tears… he needed the most calm she could offer. She smiled and nodded, covering up her own feelings. "They're beautiful, Todd. Growing… Reese is talking a lot more. He's changing. Lucia is… so tough. Smart. Reads the most books in her class. They're with Viki. They love her, you know. She loves them. Spoils them but not too much." She added. "They miss you. They know you are…. _missing_."

The clock in the kitchen ticked away. Loudly. Her words were terrible to hear. He was missing. He wondered where they thought he was. But that was it, wasn't it? He was nowhere. Missing. Into the night. He stared at the clock's hands… clicking the minutes. He startled when Téa suddenly was behind him. The high was still hitting him hard.

"Come to bed," she said. "I'll sleep in another room. You need to rest. Come."

He agreed and slowly got up. They climbed the stairs and she opened the door to his room and stood holding it open in the doorway. He gazed at her as he passed her, close to her… soap, rain... Rico hadn't moved, hugging the side of the bed. Todd sat, still watching her. So much in that look, speaking to their base original draw to each other. The thing that always got them. She had to go. They were in dangerous territory, despite his hate, despite his upset. The madness. When she turned to leave, running, flying away from him, he stopped her cold, grabbing her hand, up now, behind her. That viper grab. The touch… was electric. She breathed out hard. She didn't look at him. Couldn't.

"Don't leave me," he rasped.

"Todd…"

"Please…," he said, "I am… in a strange scary place, Delgado."

"I know," she said, barely a voice coming.

He pulled her closer to him, an arm all the way across her chest. With his other hand, he reached down, crawling up her dress. Sighed when he hit her hip, bareness.

She fought it… she did…

"Just lie with me," he said.

She resisted his request… but then she gave in, the way Rico had given in… getting into the bed. He pulled her down, pulled her hard into him, powerfully…wrapping his arms around her, again her back to his chest.

He whispered, his breath hot in her ear… the smell of soap… water… the rain.. "Why are you here?"

There was no answer.

"Why… are… you here?"

He kissed her neck and pressed her to him, his hand beneath her breast. She couldn't help herself, sighing louder than she meant to, arching her back, her foot hooking his leg. He touched her under her dress, moving his hand up… and Téa gasped and held his hand to stop him. Some sense coming to her. She could feel him trembling… or maybe that was her.

"No," she breathed, his hand in hers, still under her dress. "We are not ready for this. You are so not ready… _Rico _is not ready. He loves you…"

She'd stabbed him with that one. Killed the moment. He grunted and turned over onto his back, all touching gone. Said emotionlessly, "He would beg to differ… on the love thing." He grew quiet, holding onto his high, the fuzzy thinking, the easy being. Then after a bit he said in a dreamy voice, "I'm… I'm… shit is weird. _Confusing. _Everything confuses me. You used to be the only thing I understood."

"I know," she whispered, fighting tears, "and I know what I did to that… to your trust."

She lay there in the hushed rainy rumbling dark until she heard his even breathing. She turned over onto her side to watch him again. A long while she studied him, thankful for dreamless sleep. It WAS crazy to be here. She couldn't explain why she was here other than seeking her own redemption. In the little light of the room, she suddenly realized Rico was awake and sitting up against the pillow. Watching her. He was expressionless. Saying nothing. He looked at her too hard, too steadily.

Lightning struck and lit up the room, followed by a loud crack of thunder. Louder than everything so far and Todd jerked awake, breathing hard, unnerved by the storm. He lay a long while as the rain pounded out the window. Then as if he didn't see Téa, as if he forgot she was the warmth next to him, he suddenly reached for and pulled Rico down for a kiss. It was soft and lingering. Rico bit his lip, pulling back, releasing him. A hand rested on Todd's chest.

"We are not alone, _mí león_," Rico whispered.

As if he didn't hear, Todd took Rico's hand and gently pulled it down to his crotch. He never left Rico's face. "Touch me," he said.

"We are not alone." Rico pulled his hand back…

"_I know. Touch me anyway."_

Rico glanced at Téa and she said nothing. Todd was not ready for her… she was not ready for him. But...he needed to be reminded he was alive. He had needed to be reminded of it since he'd found Rico earlier. She knew this. Her silence was acquiescence.

"Are you sure, _mí león_?"

"Touch me… tell me not to be afraid."

Rico was the one who was afraid. He panted a bit. He ran his hand down Todd's belly, touching the hair that flared above his jeans. He swallowed. "Touch me," Todd said again. Rico unbuttoned the first button… eyes on Téa. Her brown eyes were on his. Her husband was breathing unevenly now. Rico moved to the second button… then the third. Todd grabbed his hand, to stop him…asked in Spanish...

"_Tell me not to be afraid."_

Rico wanted to do it… he wavered between compliance and running out the door. But when he looked at _Blanco_, at that desperate need for understanding…when he saw Téa's calm… her curious eyes… patient eyes… her fearlessness…

"_Do not be afraid because there is nothing to be afraid of. You are asking me… you want this… nobody is making you do this."_

"_It's nothing like before…"_

"_It is nothing like before."_

That uneven breath caught Téa… caught her hard. In what way she couldn't say… jealousy, excitement, seeing him this way… She laid her hand on his stomach…feeling the rise and fall beneath. His warm skin. Almost like the black of his tattoo had its own heat. She touched him in case maybe he had forgotten her, but he didn't adjust his desire. He even glanced at her for a second or two. Rico undid another button and slipped his hand inside and Todd rocked his head back and gasped almost imperceptibly…

"Don't be afraid…" Rico repeated in English. "This is your choice… you are in control of whoever touches you. You own it."

"My choice," Todd breathed.

Still on her side, Téa moved her leg on top of Todd's leg, needing to relieve the pressure of the baby… wanting to offer what little she could. Todd put his hand on her and pulled her leg higher on him. Bringing Téa closer to him. Rico spit on his hand and stroked Todd's cock and Téa heard him grunt softly, huff at each slide of his palm. Rico moved slowly and tenderly. Gentle… gentle… Todd wasn't fully hard yet but he slowly moved his hips up, up into Rico's hold of him. He huffed and reached down to push his jeans lower… Téa moved so he could kick them off and when he did, he was now gloriously naked in the night's light and she nearly cried at how much she missed his scarred strong beautiful body. He pulled her to him again, getting her bent leg on him, getting her close.

Rico slid down, stretching out across the foot of the bed, and eyed Todd… maneuvered himself in between Todd's legs… put his mouth on his cock and Todd bit his lip and again, slowly lifted his hips. He unconsciously grabbed Rico's hair. Watched the languid bob of his head. Todd licked his lips. When Rico pulled away, Todd had stiffened, his cock hard and glistening in the low light. It disappeared into Rico's mouth again. He glancing at Téa … the edge of spite on his features… but then it was gone. He was high and relaxed and willing…

He watched Rico, the tip of his cock in his mouth… his hand around the shaft, moving from the balls…the mouth a pleasurable repeating kiss. The pop of the suction, a kiss, a kiss...

"Tell me again…," Todd groaned.

"Do not be afraid… I am not doing anything you don't want."

"I want this… I want this… _fuck…_"

Téa couldn't help it, seeing his sexuality so raw, so uncovered, she pressed her lips against Todd's and he kissed her back, kissing her hard, moving his cock into Rico's mouth, his hand on Rico's hand, encouraging him to stroke him while sucking him. Todd moaned into Tea's mouth...against her lips. His knee bent… falling open… he wanted more. He held Téa at his side, pressing her body firmly to him. She found herself excited… wet and hot against his body… and she lifted herself, raising the dress and getting on his thigh, on top of him… her wetness on his skin. She wanted the pressure, the friction. She wanted to feel him beneath her. The idea that she was wetting his skin made her shiver. She squeezed into Todd's grip of her. Her leg rubbed against Rico… her tongue deep in Todd's mouth… as she rocked her hips against him, a hand on the sheets, the other on his chest, holding herself up… and yet not up… so close to him.

He groaned and Rico did too… because he had his own cock in his hand and was jerking himself… his jeans lost a long time ago, needing to come, needing to feel this. Hanging on to Téa by her ass, keeping her on top him, her delicious wet cunt on his thigh, Todd got his hand behind Rico's head, holding him hard by the hair down in between his spread legs. He fucked Rico's mouth, thrusting into it, getting a little faster. Téa held him, rolling on his thigh, using his rhythm selfishly… breathing fast onto his neck. Whispering, "My beautiful man… my beautiful husband… you are so very much alive…fearless… safe…nobody can hurt you…"

She rubbed herself on his strong leg, moaning, needy and open, bucking faster because he'd gotten his fingers inside of her, how stealthily he'd done that … and soon she was coming, her voice sweet and hot and familiar and full of that desperate love that Todd lived for, before, before... and just as she did, groaning with her orgasm, Todd kissed her frantically, saying, "I love you… I fucking love you…"

But then he let go of her, lips parting in a silent gasp… as Téa slid to the side of him… watching him as he pumped into Rico's skilled mouth, his legs and ass working to chase the come… Rico's hands on his hips, making him hotter, needier, until Todd groaned… "fuck…," his head arching back… his whole body shaking with his heated orgasm… ejaculating into Rico's mouth… Rico taking every bit of it… never rejecting it…open, open...

Before Todd had a moment, Rico scrambled up to kiss Todd, landing firmly on him, moaning, "Do you taste yourself… do you see how good it is…_mi león precioso…_" and while Todd was letting himself do just that, kissing and tasting… Rico shifted his hips and grabbed Téa's hand and made her touch him… which she did, stroking Rico's cock… a beautiful thing… looking at Rico straight on as he kissed her husband… and her eyes were warm and accepting and she knew well how to do it… and a breathless Todd broke the kiss and watched her… and Rico's spasms soon shook him hard, spilling over Téa's fingers and Todd's hair at his cock… and he shuddered, pressed against his lion… with the lioness saying, "oh Rico...you are beautiful… my god…"

Rico fell on Todd once again, kissing him… kissing him solidly… his hand on Téa, around her, pulling her close. Finding it hard to recover… hard still… wanting more, wishing for more… so he just got on top, hands flanking Todd, and humped him in plain, blunt pursuit. Cock to cock, the way they always did. Todd grunted at the harshness, got caught in that… his hand at the nape of Rico's neck… all focus on the intensity of his _mari_…and Téa saw the shadow of smile… and heard him whisper hotly, freely, "Lemme see you come… "

… and that did it… Rico groaned at the loosed heat. Todd put his arms up, sharp eyes on Rico… not letting go because he wanted to see… watched, watched, taking as much as Rico needed to get to his end, whatever it took, and then… and then his lover was coming a second time… moaning, "Fuck, fuck, fuck…," wetness pulsing onto Todd's chest… Rico jerking his hips, his chin up, eyes closed, body lit by the yellow light… he rocked until there was nothing left… and then collapsed finally next to him…

The rain then slammed Havana again, a loud rush of water banging the metal gutters, and the window crashed open against the wall… far more open than before… and Todd turned to Téa, his heart racing, breathing fast… and whispered raggedly, "Oh my fucking god…. oh… shit."

And she knew he was afraid again and she held him close, lips at his ear, "Don't be afraid, _mí amor… don't ever be afraid of who you are. I love you. I love you… I love you…"_

**To be continued….**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Caged: Retribution_**

**Chapter 4**

"_Don't be afraid,_ _mí amor… don't ever be afraid of who you are. I love you. I love you… I love you…"_

"And who on god's green earth do you think I am, Delgado?" _El Diablo Blanco_ asked the fates, the gods, the blackened watery skies, as he sat on the old dresser, barefoot, jeans only. Unbuttoned but for a couple still clutching the denim.

_Who. Am. I._

His knees were up, and he leaned back against the window frame, the window wide open. One foot turned on top of the other, creating heat. The last-of-night's rain was steady but light, and cold as hell. Could have pulled Rico's purple hoodie on but Abram was stretched out on the floor on top of it and Todd didn't want to disrupt that damn dog's snoring happy sleep. Could have grabbed something from his own pile of shit in the room but the chill made everything inside of him run low like a cold motor. And he needed that despite being post-heroin-bliss, post...post… _fuck_.

He puffed on a cigarette, strong Cuban shit, watching the smoke drift up, watched ash fall out the window when he flicked it. He studied the water, trying to see the individual drops. Followed some, fast, fast. Water beaded on his arm and he rubbed the wet into his skin sometimes. Daybreak was coming, the approaching sun lightening the cloud-covered sky. He glanced at the bed...peered through stringy grey-brown locks. That queen bed. A bed for a Queen.

_La Reina Puertorriqueña._

Téa Delgado, with the bun in the oven, lay on her side under the blanket in her blue-almost-black knit dress, facing away from Rico who over the past hour had slowly inched to her, seeking her warmth. Now he was flush up against her. The three had fallen asleep to the gentle noise, the thunder and lightning dissipating across the ocean, all wrapped up in each other… like a pack of wolves. But then… awareness came over Todd, the drug having fully drifted away, and he crawled over Rico and got the hell out of bed. Got on the dresser. Breathed in the air before choosing tobacco.

He shivered with cold, closed his eyes a moment. He'd say he had a strange dream. A dream that he'd let Rico suck him off and while that happened, Téa was tight on top of him, wiggling on him, rotating and rocking her hips, delicious noise coming from her, the kind that made him want to own her… but he didn't dare reach for that… settling for pushing fingers into her, forcing his mouth onto hers, their tongues intertwined in a deeply familiar connection. He'd say he dreamt Rico reached for her to touch him until he was coming, that Rico was then on top of Todd and moving hard in an unabashed hurtful chase. Her scent remained on Todd's fingers... but so did his own scent and taste in his mouth… and Rico's on his chest. He'd say it was all a fucking drug dream but... _that _would be a lie.

_Tell me not to be afraid. _

He slid down, scratching skin against the weathered wood of the frame, hunching shoulders, dropping the cigarette butt out the window. He rubbed his bearded face with both hands, leaving them there, covering... covering. Hiding in the black. The edges of familiar panic rolled through him like distant rumbling thunder. He breathed slightly faster than normal. Thought maybe he'd follow that released cigarette. Take a dive, make sure to bash his head smack flat on the concrete.

_I love you. I fucking love you. _

He mashed his hands now on his mouth, stopping a sudden sob, erupting up through him, hot and burning and bringing the most powerful ache for home and his children and what he used to have with his beautiful strong Delgado, _their life… the one where she lived under a rock and had no idea who he really was_... a feeling he hadn't experienced since Statesville.

He breathed to lessen the acuteness and sure enough, the sharp sensations faded, the desire to cry until there was nothing left ending. Heard his doctor's voice telling him to count to ten and that it was all gonna be okay, yeah? Not that he believed that in any fucking way. He sniffed, wiped hard at his eyes. Reached for the cigarette pack and lit up again, shivering again at the cold. The flame threatened to blow out but his hand stopped the air and there she went. Lit that bitch.

_How you like me now, mamita?_

The sun finally landed, brightening the entire sky, the room a dull grey. Turned and watched Téa a while, her peaceful breathing. Curled tight as she could around that baby in her belly. Hair all over her face. Rico too, curled up against her.

_Lemme see you come… _

A choked noise rolled out of his throat that he hadn't intended to do. He then looked at the lit end of the _Popular _cigarette, the company's slogan, _Soy Cubano. _Harsh if you weren't used to them. Watched that thing a long time and knew what he could do to counter _reactions_ he couldn't control, feelings he didn't appreciate intruding onto his thinking. Onto his body. Shit had been too easy… He glanced down at his undone buttons… ancient habits squeaking in his ear…

_...just do it… just do it… press the cigarette on delicate skin…derail the thoughts… short circuit your brain… stop the feelings… the gut reaction to someone touching you even if you don't want them to… _

He didn't hear Téa get out of bed… but felt her hand on his and he jerked a little. Didn't need a cigarette. Her fingertips derailed the shit out of him.

"Don't," she said. "Please."

His heart had sped up, shocked at hearing her voice… seeing her in the cold light. Light anxious eyes on hers. "Don't _what_?"

"Whatever you want to do with that cigarette that isn't a smoke."

Her face was gorgeous in the morning's grey light, vanilla skin and earthy browns and soft curled hair he wanted to kiss and touch and feel against his face. He resisted the desire to press his lips on hers again. He could taste her… and that sound again snuck out of his throat and his cock stirred so he bit down on his teeth, his jaw flexing. Fingers on the cigarette twitching.

_Set it to soft silk… feel that… feel it… kill the instinct… stop the pictures._

"I wasn't gonna do anything," he said quietly, sticking the thing in his mouth. He puffed lazily a couple of times, then let it hang to the side as he gazed at her lips, but then he grimaced and took it out. Tossed it. "I stopped doing that."

"How are you?"

"Fuckin' peachy." Stared hard at her, at how she stood in the light, toes turning in because the floor was cold, at how she held her skirt in her hands because she didn't know what to do with those hands. Like a young girl. He hawked, scratched his head like he wanted to draw blood, then snapped, "Same as every other goddamn day." Turned to the rain again, his eyes closing every so often, a tired shutting-out of Havana. Stretched his leg out on the dresser, then dropped his foot so it hung down. He scratched the crook of his elbow, massaged his forearm. Hunched against the window frame. He chuckled sadly… then didn't. Kept rubbing his arm. Reached for another cigarette but didn't light it.

"I'm all out of dope," he said.

"Do you need it? Do you want it?"

"What do you think?"

"I bet you do. And bet you don't. I hope you won't."

"Easy to say."

Téa had been on and off awake for some time, eyes on her husband. She saw how still he sat, staring into the darkness, into the rain. She wondered if that was Statesville training… his ability to just think without moving, to _live _without breathing. The night had been intense, _unexpected._ She didn't think about it other than from a very tangible perspective, couldn't. The tension of their bodies, the distinct scents and tastes, the surface sexual sensations. The desperation to just _come._ The excitement of it, the wrongness, the rightness… it was too much to take in emotionally or intellectually. Too much to sort through. Not here. No, she had to take what happened, put it in her pockets, and spill it on a spread-out white sheet to look at everything. Untangle it all.

"Sounds about right," he murmured. Glanced at her. "I'm hooked… god fucking damnit."

"Raquel used it as medication… maybe you should call Tim?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shook his head slightly. Stuck the unlit cig behind his ear, moving hair to accommodate.

"Why not?"

"Because… I have things to do."

And that's that. She crossed her arms and shivered. Studied Rico in his peaceful sleep. Naked under the covers. She worried about him. Todd had given him permission to just _be _and he grabbed it. Shook it like a dog shakes a rat. And the two had looked at each other as it happened… and there was something there… something she could not decipher… didn't know if she even had the knowledge to do it… she was locked out...

_Lemme see you come._

"God," she huffed… an escaped word, lined with the tangled emotions she refused to face. An impossible tangle. She pressed her fingers to her lips to shut herself up. A hand on his arm to keep to her feet. Quickly eyed Todd and he was watching her again. He looked profoundly sad…

"You're worried," she said. "What happened-"

"Shut up," he snapped. Not wavering from his watching of her.

"Shouldn't we...talk about it? At least-"

"Not gonna." Warning edged his words.

_Who. Are. You._

She paused a while, caressing those old scars on his arm, a natural thing, not even thought to it. familiar thing. Focusing on his passive face. Shielded eyes. Still as clay. Water behind him. Words slipped out anyway. "I don't think I've ever seen you that way…, letting go, letting something just happen... living in a moment so freely. I think maybe I love you more in some ways… than before..." She shook her head fast, her hand waving back and forth, anticipating his shutting her down, "I'm not talking about _love _in a marriage way, in a relationship way, in a way saying we're past all the…" She hunted for a word, landing on, "_hurdles and hurts _we have to get past or… move on from… or free each other from… I am talking just as ME, I am talking _love_ as one human being to another, to someone _deeply human...purely human..." _She looked at him, her features screwed up in question, asking if he understood? There was more to it, things she couldn't identify yet. Her fingers lay unmoving on his hand.

Suddenly he snorted, distance fast in his eyes, "You are... funny. _Hilarious_. We had a goddamn three-way. I got a blow-job and… and… I finger-fucked you and… Rico.. .well he got you to jack him..." Distance dropped away like melted snow. He was suddenly trembling and Téa could see it because the strands of hair were moving… and she swallowed hard because he said he didn't want to talk about it and she didn't want to think about it yet here she was trying to bring sanity to the madness… trying to assure him… trying… trying… trying...

"Todd-"

"What are we doing, Delgado? Huh? What do you want from me? I got nothin'. All of you are here… _after me_… and I have nothing for any of you. I keep asking why you're here… and maybe I'm asking again. Why the FUCK are you here? There's nothing to save… and don't look at me with that pity I see, with that guilt..."

She found herself mute. He might as well have slapped her. She pressed her lips tight together, fighting tears. She sniffed them back. Put her chin up. Her mouth turned down with soul-deep sadness. Whispered, "I don't want you to die. I want you to see this baby born. I want you to see your children. And last night-"

"And here we go... the crux of the shit we're in. _You_..." The anger was up again. He breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring, jaw flexing. "You _shot _me." He grabbed her hard by the arm, "LOOK… look what you did." And she did… her eyes dropping to the two bullet scars. He let go of her, let go of her rough. "You had no intentions of ever letting me see my children or you again so cut the shit about not wanting me to die. You just don't want to be _responsible_ for my death. You want things all creamy and soft and kumbaya so people will say… poor fuckin' woman."

Now the tears came. Through them, her voice thin and broken, she said, "How can you say that? Am I that low? That egotistical? Maybe I made a mistake that night. Maybe I lost judgment for a few horrible seconds. Is there no room for that?"

"Not for you. My Delgado is... and always has been... fucking... _perfect_."

"I'm not perfect. I did make a mistake, Todd. A single, awful… most regrettable _mistake_."

"To me… you have always been perfect. To say you made a mistake… means maybe I was a mistake. Maybe WE were a mistake. Our children... _mistakes_. You… you…" He slid his legs off the dresser, feet on the floor, ass on the wood, and he held her by her arms, fingers digging into her, eyes boring into her. He shook her and rasped, "I don't know what to do with you. I want to hurt you, I want to love you…" He rested his forehead on hers, whispered, "I want to tear your clothes off and fuck the shit out of you… I want to die in front of you, get buried inside of you… end this nightmare… end _everything_..." Lips parted to talk and now… now… his eyes watered with confusion and desire and hate… all mixed into one salted brew… "What am I supposed to do?"

"_Forgive me the way I have forgiven you."_

He held her gaze, her eyes misty and pink lips opening to ask him, plead with him, desperate for mercy. _Forgive me, forgive me… _

And him, bathed in excruciating indecision. The two were frozen in the icy air, the rain tapping ground beneath. Seconds ticking away. He let go of her, flying past her and summoning Abram, and she was suddenly alone at the window. He left the room, the door slamming shut, making her jump. She jumped again at a second door slamming down the hall or across the hall or somewhere beyond this...room. It was like last night hadn't happened, like he hadn't told her he loved her, like he hadn't said he understood why she'd done it.

Sixty to zero in seconds flat. Bodies crushed in the windshield.

Rico jerked up in bed, panting, looking around, his hair a mess. He mumbled in Spanish, "_What happened? Is someone shot? What happened?"_ He eyed her, all that troubled darkness in his eyes, there again. She moved quickly to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and seeing how young he looked and how worried...

"_Nothing happened, precioso… go back to sleep. Rest." _Knowing he'd be concerned, she added, "He is upset with me. Nothing is changed."

"_Coño_," he huffed and collapsed back on the bed, dragging the covers up around his shoulders. His breathing coming back down. She slid into the bed, sitting up, knees up, legs under the covers, near Rico's warm body. He glanced at her then didn't. "Raquel didn't leave heroin here," he asked, "did she?"

"No. Doesn't mean he doesn't have something stashed away though. That's his way."

He rolled over onto his side, facing Téa, eyes up at her. "_Do you feel strange? Are you okay?"_

"_I am fine. I am worried about you, though."_

"I have done a lot of shit. Last night was… puppies and kittens. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He was quiet then added, "I will survive when he goes home with you." The Adam's apple moved, a hard swallow. Those eyes… damn it, haunted again.

She touched his face, fingers on his cheek and a thumb caressing his chin, "Oh _Rico… _I don't know that he will come home with me. We have much to do… there are significant obstacles to overcome..." He nodded, his face saying of course, of course… but beneath it… a current of unspoken, unexpressed emotion. A wild river underground. She said, "I have a baby to deliver in a few months. I need to get her to a safe place. I might have to… leave him here." Her eyes welled with tears, his words ringing in her head. "He's upset. And it's me… in addition to Caro and everything, but… I am causing terrible upset. I have become… the worst to him. Last night… I am not sure what it was. Where he was. I think… I think… he might have been punishing me. Showing me… that he doesn't need me. That he has _you_. And I am fine with that. You are good to him, good for him."

Tears rolled down her face, hot and insistent. Rico rolled over, away from her. Silent. Except...he quietly corrected her. "He said he loved you. I heard that. _What is that if not forgiveness?"_

Téa sniffled, feeling like a bad child finally caught. She slid under the covers, lying down on her side. She lightly touched Rico's back and he stiffened. "People say and do things in bed they don't always mean," she said in a quiet voice. They lay for a long time, the rain a gentle accompaniment. She then asked hesitantly. "Why did you have me touch you last night?"

After a few beats of rainy silence, he shrugged, said in Spanish, "_Maybe I wanted to see if you would. Maybe I wanted to see how Blanco would react. Maybe sometimes I like the feel of a woman. The touch is... very different."_

"Is it?" The tears kept coming though and she tried so hard to control them. She felt weak, wrecked. She did not expect this level of emotion. She thought she was more worldly, sophisticated, she thought she'd gained some kind of objectivity... she breathed and worked and finally reigned it in. When he didn't answer, she asked, "Please tell me how it's different."

He sighed and said. "You hold me as if I might break at first. You stroke me with curiosity, searching for the right touch. You don't know how the touches feel so you shift until I respond then you stay with that. You pull back… because you want me to wait… then having learned the right touch, you go back… your grip is gentle…your hand is like velvet..."

"And Todd's hold of you?"

He turned a little, eying her behind him, weighing whether he should answer it seemed… his eyes were warm, roving her features, a kind of anguish there. Téa knew now… _Todd touches him._

"It is sure," he said. "There is a confidence in where it's all going. He watches me with another kind of curiosity. He knows I won't break and knows the places to touch. It is thoughtless and knowing and-"

"Inconsiderate."

"Yes. He does not think of what he's doing to me."

She let his words flow over her. She ran a hand through his hair, and he turned back away from her. He had said a lot. Nothing new. Her husband was wrecking him through and through. Of course he was.

"I am returning to my hotel," she said.. "Um… _thank you for being you… for your patience with me. For entertaining me yesterday, for sharing your secrets with me. I feel special. You are a beautiful person, an artist… one who has something to say. And you say it so well."_

She got out from under the covers and stepped over to the dresser where her clothes sat at the edge, where they'd been pushed by Todd so he could sit there. She delicately pulled off her dress, standing naked in the cold.

She watched out the window, feeling the chill on her skin. Todd was right that she should head home to the States. She needed to feel her babies, kiss their faces, see them. Time to leave him to his journey, whatever the destination. She ran through her checklist of required jobs: she made herself visible the way Rolon had wanted. Reminded him that he was loved. Told him about the children missing him, needing him. She told him about Juarez, said he should cooperate or else risk god-knows-what. Suggested he get real help. Gave that same information to Rico. Maybe that's all she could do.

He did not want to forgive her. She DID shoot him. She HAD in that moment wanted to end him… at least the part of him that was bad, that had been corrupted, the part of him that was, for a few seconds in her mind, unchangeable. Unfixable. Like the ruined black pitbull in Ty's kennel. For a few seconds she had decided he needed to be put down.

_Jesus Christ. Maybe some things could not be forgiven. Maybe I am beyond mercy._

Rico was behind her, his arms wrapped around her, tight, tight. His forearms crossed on her breasts. His whole body pressed against her. Skin against skin. She huffed at the strangeness of her husband's lover _on _her. The madness of it. He talked softly in her ear, his Spanish distinctly Cuban, his expertise at pretend love in his every word, in the perfection of how he spoke just close enough to create heat… "_You are a lioness to his lion. You are a powerful and beautiful woman. I have never met anyone like you. He loves you. He will always love you."_

She tipped her head back into him, "Love isn't enough."

He sighed in a kind of resignation maybe. Said, "_Perhaps you are right. But then tell me, abogada, why when he fucks me… in his way… it is you I see in his eyes, it is you I feel in his cock. I feel how badly he wishes to be inside of you. It is why he does not penetrate me… because I will never be YOU."_

She turned slightly and breathed out hard, "God… god…" His mouth was on her neck, a bare light touch, a kiss with his silky tongue, his arms loosening and a hand slipping to her breast, fingertips on a nipple and bringing it to its full form. His hand dropped lower and slid through the thatch of hair, fingers searching her with his own curiosity. She shook him off and put a hand on his chest… to keep him apart from her, _he who was an unreachable truth._ He hid so well in his nakedness. She eyed his near-perfect body, his half-erection. Back up to those dark eyes full of secrets, terrifying secrets.

"I need to go," she whispered raggedly. She turned and shakily put her panties on, her bra, her stockings. Jesus… she was wet. He made her wet. She slipped her dress back on and her black leather boots…

_Jesus._

Rico was on the bed now, brazen, naked, up on his elbows, a body to worship, hair falling about his face… _my god_… an awakened _splendid _penis resting against his thigh, rooted in black silky hair. His beauty… so profoundly different from Todd yet just as mesmerizing, but _unlike _Todd… Rico knew how beautiful he was. It suddenly dawned on Téa… why the killer of his brother did not kill Rico. Because he knew his business. And his main product was how magnificent he was. How sexual he was. Even as a nine year-old child. It was how he stayed alive all those years working for Manuel Caro. She didn't know whether to throw up, to cry the pain of a hundred children like him… not like him...

… or to fuck him right where he lay.

She shuddered, gasped ever so subtlety and grabbed her little leather purse with the long strap that she wore across her chest. She opened the door and closed it behind her and practically slid down the stairs and was soon in the steady but light rain, walking at first, walking fast… finally running in the puddles away from _La Casita Particular de Sylvia. _Running to Jedediah who stood waiting for her…

"Jed…"

"Whatcha doing, moms? What the hell are you doing?"

"Let's go…please…"

From the other room across the hall, Todd watched her… watched her running in that rain, disappearing into the grey light. Knowing Jedediah was there because he called that little shit to come get her. The kid had come to the window… demanded to know where she was and Todd…like a fuckin' Juliet on a balcony... hissed, "She's here… she'll be flying out the front door any fuckin' minute. Wait over there, down the block. I wanna see her _run_."

If looks could kill. "What did you do to her, Pops? Huh?"

"Go on, baby boy." He walked his fingers in the air.

Wondrous glorious Jedediah-hate flew up to that window. "You deserved those bullets. You know you did."

"Walk the fuck away, son," he drawled. "Give her room to run in the rain. Splash dem puddles with dem lawyer... _boots_."

He smoked his cigarette, breathing in the smoke and holding it in his lungs before letting it out slowly. A fog lay thick in the distance into which she indeed had _run_. He couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, couldn't hear her breath. The scent of the _Popular_ overtook the scent of _her. _

Moments later, the door behind him opened and he turned to Rico in the doorway wearing soft pajama bottoms he liked that Todd had brought him from the beach house. Todd looked his form up and down and tipped his chin up slightly, eyes narrow and cold, that cigarette in his mouth, about to fall.

The whore said softly, an undercurrent in his voice of something... "What did your famous president say? Mission accomplished? Fucking in front of her… our way… _tan perfecto_. _Tan eficaz_. She will go home now."

Dropping down to pet Abram, giving him a vigorous rubbing of his body, he let the dog lick his face. The quiet was thick. Heavy. Todd then purred, "Now see… what you are forgetting about Bush and his _mission accomplished_ claim… is that it was just the beginning of the war. It didn't end when he said those words. She is not going anywhere."

"_Si_? And what then… we fuck some more? You play with her more? With both of us?"

Uncoiling from the ground, Todd glared a little. Rico didn't flinch. He was angry… the little fucker was angry. He was protective. Of Téa. Todd took the cigarette out of his mouth. Bit down on his teeth.

"I'm going to Elon's house to get a layout," he said. "I will see if children have been there. I've been trying to get to them and can't. But I'm focused now. Between the crazy, the heroin, getting Delgado to move a little... everything… I'm steady. Yeah." He sniffed. "I'll speak to Raquel, too, since you are not being cooperative. She can get me everything I need…"

"_Is that right?"_

"Yes, she will get me everything I need to blow Caro's life up to kingdom fucking _come_." He eyed Rico, not letting him go. He flicked the cigarette. Ash falling to the hardwood floor.

"Are you sick…? The drug…"

"I'll get through it. I've done it a hundred times."

The door swung closed because Rico stepped further into the room. He waited for something. He breathed gently, his chest rising and falling… Todd looked at him again, eyes hard on him. Stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. A breeze blew through the window, the chill making his small nipples hard and he scratched at it. He got inches away from Rico. He ran fingers down his smooth chest, stopped at the drawstring. Rico glared right back at him, not moving. Almost daring _Blanco. _A hand came up and wrapped around Rico's throat.

Todd took the cigarette out of his mouth… holding it... embers towards smooth skin. He leaned in and kissed full lips, deep kisses, a tongue... _ inside_. He stopped, mouth at Rico's, and licked the whore's mouth from one corner to the other, still holding him by the throat. He then pushed him against the door… and still Rico didn't flinch. Then Todd flipped him around, unkindly, pushing him hard up against the white painted wood. Smashed his body against the whore's… Todd at Rico's back. His hips dug into Rico's ass, mouth at his neck. Breathed hard, heat and wetness on skin. The cigarette was close...

Now… NOW Rico flinched. In Spanish, he growled, "_You want to hurt me… or fuck me?"_

Deliberately Todd thrust his hips against Rico and the whore shuddered, forehead against the white, feeling Todd's hardness at the cleft of his ass. The movement was... slow. Todd did it again and again until he got Rico's pulse thumping against his lips… Todd reached around at that and stuck his hand into the pants… holding a blood-engorged cock, fingers long enough to graze his balls… stroked the shaft just enough...

Rico whimpered…"Do it… just do it…," groaning softly with cutting need. He could see that cigarette in his periphery, dangling between fingers… hovering.

Then Todd jerked hard into him, squeezing delicate balls, and said in a low growl right at Rico's ear…

"If you touch Téa again, with any part of you… I'll fuckin' rip your dick off with my bare hands. Then I'll shove it down your throat… so you really can't fuckin' breathe. See how good THAT feels. _Lo entiendes, maricon?_"

He straightened, stuck the cigarette back in between his lips, and grabbed Rico by the hair. He shoved him out of the way, throwing him to the bed. Rico grunted at the shock and turned around, hands gripping the bedcovers, eyes on fire, shaking with his own brand of hate.

_El Diablo Blanco_ turned, called Abram, and promptly left the room. The door slammed shut.

Rico just lay there, panting, then gritted his teeth. Shaking he couldn't stop. His cock fast losing its stiffness. "_Cabron!" _he yelled, his voice strained. He then took the pillows and bed sheets, tearing at them, tearing them off the bed… smashing the lamp and crashing a goddamn tea set to the floor… taking whatever he could and throwing the shit wherever it would fucking land… being nothing but a ball of mad noisy fury. _Blanco… _could hurt Rico now. And he fucking knew it. He had all the ammunition in the world to tear him to bits. Heart, mind… everything. And it was clear.. he'd use it if he had to.

When he was afraid. And _Blanco… was afraid of himself, the biggest threat of all._

"You fucking _maricon _bastard_!" _Rasped, "You _puto_…" But then he stopped, chest heaving, surrounded by _casita _chaos… and he suddenly wondered… who was _Blanco _jealous over exactly… Téa? Or him? He had no idea which way that threat CUT. And he bet… _Blanco _didn't know either.

_Hijo de puta._

* * *

Abram was happy and fed. Sylvia had come and gone but made sure to leave good butcher scraps mixed with carrots and rice for him, along with meals for the house guests. Todd had heard Rico upstairs throwing a tantrum. With good reason. Todd had been an asshole. It had come over him… like a red motherfucking tide. He then headed upstairs, showered, scrubbing the night away beneath scalding water, rubbing himself raw. Heroin sick had come in like a bullet train and his shower ended with him puking into the bowl. Coughed and sputtered like an old man. Punishing him for who he was, the real him. The cramping started but he just pushed ahead, you know? He had to be without the drugs.

Like he said, he had shit to do.

Got dressed - black jeans, black tee-shirt, black jacket, black boots… all black because he was a pissed-off dope-sick _bitch _today. Took off with his dog at his side, the two hitting the street. The rain felt good and he lifted his face to the water and opened his mouth to catch the drops. He smiled at Abram's own smile as he walked briskly next to his person. They huffed it until the house came into view. _Elon's house._ Looked empty. Wondered if Elon was inside. He walked around to the back. An unlocked door welcomed him and Abram. He stepped into the kitchen and then… the living room.

Eyes roved the chairs, the tables, the computer screen bought especially for the child porn live stream. It sat black and empty. He walked his gaze up the stairs…

Shit, shit, shit…

...shit started happening bad. He remembered the last time he was here and immediately his breathing sped up and his skin felt hot and his vision began to blacken, pictures starting to roll in. The hallucinations. He wanted to cry like a baby because the lack of control was… breathtaking. How everything simply _arrived_. He shook from pure fear coming from the core of him, his eyes wide and stuck on what he was seeing. All around him the people started rising from the rugs, the wood opening into hell. The sensations on his body burst into life, clawing at him, choking him. His wrists burned from the stockings bolting him to the bed. He huffed from the pain ripping through him. The horror silenced him. He was being tortured and he knew that the disappearing thing would come. The white. The place where he'd either be living in the memory for hours… or protected from the memories… for hours. Still and unmoving… barely breathing… eyes open, responding to nothing.

Abram though… he rubbed his body hard against Todd's legs and he looked down and saw the dog's serious expression, no smile now, and then he dropped to the floor and grabbed hold of his dog, holding him tight. Abram wasn't budging. Wasn't upset or nervous or growling. The dog was telling him the pictures weren't real. He closed his eyes and held him.

Soon the body sensations began to lessen and Peter and Caro faded into the floor, melting away. He breathed fast, sweat dripping all over him, his clothes sticking now. He knew the heroin's remnants were helping, but the dog was a big relief.

"Yeah," he whispered, "... I'm here, here in fucking Havana. Today. Like now." He pressed his face on Abram's body. The muscles sure and thick and peaceful. He plopped onto his ass and lay flat on the floor. The dog got worried and placed his heavy head on Todd's belly, calming when Todd rubbed that head. He lay there, regaining himself. He began to cry, hands on his face, but then didn't. How easy this all happened. And this… THIS… is why he wanted the fucking dope.

He didn't know if he was gonna make being clean. Not with this fucking trauma inside of him.

But then… then… Abram started to growl, moving off Todd. He stood with his head low, his legs spread slightly, ready to jump. And when Todd lifted his head and saw Manuel Caro standing in the doorway in khaki slacks with an open green and yellow _guayabera_ shirt...that pock-marked face with the mole... he knew the shit was real. That bastard wasn't any hallucination. Abram said so with his protectiveness.

"_Blanco. Why are you here?"_

Todd sat up, slowly getting to his feet and pulling hair back away from his face. He swallowed visibly. Found himself still and silent. Stood before his rapist. He felt his jacket… the gun secure in the inside pocket.

"_Are you here to kill me?"_

"Tell me, _Manny, _why would I ever kill the man who helped make me who I am today. I am here to thank you…"

"Oh my god. I knew it. I knew you understood."

"More than I can ever say in words."

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Caged: Retribution_**

**Chapter 5**

"_Are you here to kill me?"_

"_Tell me, Manny, why would I ever kill the man who helped make me who I am today. I am here to thank you…"_

"_Oh my god. I knew it. I knew you understood."_

"_More than I can ever say in words."_

Seeing Manuel Caro up close and personal again was a bit of a disappointment to Todd. The older man was much smaller than he had begun to think of him as, much less threatening. The colored _guayabera _shirt lay open and showed a bit of a pot belly, a shrunken chest. Though he'd give that he was still youthful in his overall shape and facial constitution, and like Pedro… he still had some muscle to him. The sleeves didn't hide the girth of his biceps. Todd's eyes were drawn to the ring Caro wore. An ugly gold nugget kind of thing that triggered nothing in his limited memory bank. All much less impressive than he remembered since he last saw him. Since he learned the _truth. _Abram didn't move, firmly set on the floor, ready for anything. He growled then barked. Not liking Caro one bit. Doggy sixth sense.

"_I am so glad," _Caro said._ "I was worried about our friendship._"

"_What is a minor disagreement for friends like us?" _Todd could hear his own voice and it was calm, devoid of anger. There might have even been a bit of a seductor in it. A smoothness, a syrupy low tone. His very own come-fuck-me voice he knew he was good at. Not like Rico, no, never like that. Todd could feel a bit of the whore in himself, an old familiar whore… a Brandy-like recollection… only fucking isn't quite what he had in mind. Submission is not what was dancing in his head.

"_Tell me, Blanco, do you really like boys, did you learn to enjoy them?"_

Words got stuck. His calmness shaken the way a camera's view would be if bumped while filming. The quiet returned though.

"_No,"_ he finally said.

"_Of course. Interests, tastes, like mine are not common. But you enjoy… Rico, yes? He is a gift from god, yes? Such perfection since he was a child. He moves like a swan."_

The mention of Rico's name hit Todd like a bullet to his forehead. Strange how he almost fell back at the sound of _Rico _coming out of that disgusting mouth, the guts of Caro to mention him as a _child_. Rico, Rico, Rico… The things Caro made him do slithered around his feet, the snuff films climbing up the khaki pants… the things Rico had seen and experienced wrapping around Caro's belly, around his neck. Everything Rico had become at the hands of who was probably his first abuser splashed inside of Todd. He huffed and glanced up and down Manuel's body. A low rolling noise crawled out of his throat...

Caro breathed a little fast, realizing he'd stepped on a landmine. He put his hands out, slightly frightened eyes set on _Blanco. _"Oh I should not talk about him, yes? I can see that. I am sorry. He is yours now, nothing to be touched. He is to be protected, of course. I respect that." He blathered. Words flying past and not sticking. Until… "The two of you were similar in ways. Given to me as gifts by parents. Both of you learned fast…"

The words faded again because Todd was stuck on the veins in Caro's neck. He imagined slashing the arteries, imagined the heated spray on his skin, what it would feel like to end Caro. The high of it. He licked his lips. Wondered if his blood was less warm than other men's blood… Rico remembered blood as slippery. Todd didn't recall that part. He did know the taste. Salty metal on his tongue. He had some knowledge of arterial blood having cut that guy's throat back in Statesville, the asshole who tried to rape him as some kind of revenge. Blood had gotten into his mouth. Much more than the drops he got from biting the insides of his mouth, or from a hit to the face. He was lucky the inmate wasn't HIV positive. They'd tested him. Assured him. Afterwards he kept his mouth closed when blood spattered.

"_Blanco?" _

The room around him wasn't quite Elon's house, but Caro was the same. Standing in the entrance to the living room that almost looked like Todd's Chicago house. He could almost hear Peter's booming voice, see his towering form. Caro walked close to a frozen-in-time Todd and put a hand on his shoulder, brown eyes full of concern. "You were a beautiful child. Your father gave you to me and in return I set him up with a supplier of goods from Brazil. Your father made a lot of money from the deal. He was very satisfied."

Caro ran a hand down Todd's arm. Held his wrist.

"You body is humming, _Blanco._ You are moved at seeing me again. You did not know who I was when we first met in Statesville. I put two and two together, as they say. I understand how you feel. I, too, was affected at seeing my teacher after a long separation. A foster father. Then… I soon found my interests aligned with his. I appreciated his gentle but firm treatment of me. Sit down, sit here. You look a little pale."

Caro led Todd to a fine wooden chair that was the same one he'd been sitting in when he saw Alicia on the screen. The pack of cigarettes still lay where he'd left them. Caro put a hand on Todd's chest, urging him to sit. Todd did as he was asked, knees apart. Abram remained at his side, still standing, untrusting of the man with the open shirt. They both looked across the mid-morning space at Caro. Caro was down now, on the floor, on his knees. He had put his hands on Todd's spread-apart thighs.

"You became a handsome strong man, powerful," he purred. "What can I do to assure you of my… regret... that I was not able to continue my proper education of you? That I left you to your cruel father?"

Clearing his throat, Todd seemed to come into himself. Gazed at Caro's splayed hands. "You can stop touching me for one thing."

Immediately, the older man stepped back, fell back. Giving the monster a little space. "I am sorry, no insult was intended," Caro said. "The little girl, Alicia? She is back home, yes? Much better, of course, better for any child to be with parents."

Todd narrowed his eyes, curious at the profound lack of acknowledgment of Caro's vast culpability. "She was taken from them. Did you not take her?"

"Oh no, _Blanco, _I never deprive children of beloved parents. I offer sanctuary for lost children. If parents give them away, or if they have run away from poor parents, those children are much safer with me. Sometimes children have been taken by others and we cannot find their real parents. Sometimes those children are too young to remember so they are lost… we keep them. Better than being left with bad people."

Todd shuddered, his body not cooperating with the disconnect. He was sweating. His breathing had sped up again, his heart rate. But his mind… it was still as glass, detached. He was looking at Caro from very far away. Like way up high, like a bird, like a hawk. He swallowed. "And pray tell, my dear Manuel, where do you keep these _lucky _children?"

"Foster homes, _Blanco._ They all have mothers and fathers who greatly appreciate their presence in their homes. The children are loved and shared."

"Shared."

"With me, with my clients. The children are treated well. They learn a useful trade, they enjoy themselves, their bodies. The foster parents get a cut of money the children earn."

"Like Rico."

Caro nodded, smiled. "Yes, _exactly _like Rico."

"Rico's family… is a foster family?"

"Yes. He is not the blood child of them. His foster mother takes care of many of my children."

Todd tilted his head… like a dog. "Where is he from?"

"I no longer remember."

Quiet came, Todd not able to tear away from Caro's patient expression on his face. So open, so trusting of the benign conversation. Caro was sitting now on a coffee table. Relaxed yet anxious. He wanted to share more.

"My father… he sold me to you?"

Caro lit up at the opening. "Yes, in exchange for the contacts. You were breathtaking, _Blanco. _Golden silky hair, smooth skin the color of a summer peach… you smelled like raw cotton. You had the barest trace of body hair. A perfect boy." Caro had closed his eyes in seeming remembrance. "I thought it was cruel how your father tied you to the bed. You learned to move your body though… to get more good feelings... despite being constricted."

"Did I?"

"My god, yes. At first the pain was obvious, expected… these things take time and practice and we didn't have much of either… but we had enough. Many visits. Your body learned it was a good pain and you soon could... " He put his head down a moment and when he raised his head to _Blanco_, his eyes were bright and his face bore a fine sheen. He breathed unevenly. "My god, my god. My instruction led you to be able to have an orgasm without even being touched. My mere slow entrance into you…in and out, in and out... the slower, the deeper... yes… you would climax… only with that."

Todd swallowed hot noxious bile that had fired up into his throat. He gripped the arms of the chair, scratching his nails on the wood. He was as far away as he could be except there was no distance far enough from this. Eyes on Caro… the thumping along his neck… a gun required too much muscle control at the moment. He realized he could not actually move.

Caro smiled, oblivious… "You remember. I can see it on your face. Yes, it was… glorious. I had never seen such a thing. You made this angelic sound...music to my ears... when you ejaculated. Your beautiful lips open and gasping… what I would give to hear that noise come from you today." Caro moved close again, his eyes pleading, hopeful. Fucking madness. On his knees again. "I bet I could hear that same sound in your mature voice. A silver lining in a dark cloud."

Todd tasted blood in his mouth. He was biting his tongue. Hard. Swallowing to keep from vomiting all over Caro and cutting off the flow of FUCKING information. Thinly, he asked, "Where was my father during these…_musical moments_?"

"Your father would watch from the door. When you and I were done… he would come to our side… I would hardly touch him and he'd be finished. The spray was so strong it would rain on us. That's how powerful our connection was, how exciting."

Todd could only manage a choked, "Is that right?"

"Yes, my child. I despaired over the end of our trysts."

Moments clicked by, Todd gazing into the lit-up eyes of Caro. He asked softly, "And what ended them?"

"Your father. I believe he became… jealous of your reaction to me. He could not get that from you. You resisted him. You refused to come for him. Of course. I knew how to teach the art of love and he did not."

"The art of… _love_."

"May I touch you, Blanco? Will you let me hear you once again? I bet you did not know that you can orgasm without being touched… if a man is inside of you and moving… like a swan. I am ready right now… thinking about it. You loved it as a child, you will love it again_."_

Todd's mind and body seemed to be waking up, meeting in the middle. Blood rushing in many places, the kind of rushing that was nothing but unchained...hate. Down his arms, down his legs. His cock. He felt it rushing up through his neck into his head. Could practically feel it pouring out of his eyes, his ears, his mouth. He tasted it. He smelled it. He needed to kill Caro. Like now. Like immediately. Like over and over. His mouth twitched. He stared emptily. His breathing ragged. Caro got closer yet again to Todd. He was once more in between Todd's thighs. He reached forward and touched Todd's lips…

"_You are bleeding."_

Caro wiped Todd's lips with his fingers, Todd staring at him. He wasn't breathing now… completely consumed with a need to rip Caro's throat open with his teeth. Like now. Like fucking now.

"_I loved you, child."_

Todd choked out, _"Is that right?" _Now, he thought, now now now now now now kill him now now now rip his throat out now now now tear his heart out. In that way of Todd's, he thrust his arm out and clamped his hand around Caro's neck, the older man gasping… bloody fingers on an unmoving arm… the grip like a vice.

"_Blanco!"_

A noise got Abram to bark again, a loud raucous bark. It derailed Todd's thinking, his eyes flying to the dog. Growling and snorting, Abram did not move from Todd, pointing his aggression at the stairs. Another thump upstairs. Caro turned within the grip and then flipped back, his face blanching.

Todd glanced up the stairwell, then back at Caro. Brought back to earth. He growled, "Is someone else here in this house? Is it Elon?"

* * *

Rolon Lopez leaned on a brick wall across the street from where Todd was. About fifteen minutes earlier, the bastard had snuck around back of the plain yellow house with two stories and drapery-covered windows. Place was in the synagogue section of Havana. The rain had lightened to a mere drizzle, cloudy skies promising more showers. His jacket was thin so he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets for warmth. He holstered his Desert Eagle at his shoulder. Black market shit… got a good deal from his Mambo Kings brothers down here.

He'd been monitoring every movement by _El Diablo Blanco_ since Sylvia's house. He had a perfect perch in the grey shadows… just like he had at Sylvia's _casita_. He called it right. He knew his fucked-up friend was up to no good and knew where he'd leave from. It's how Téa left, it's where Todd had dragged Rolon. The back door was the ingress and egress for _El Diablo Blanco. _Sure as shit… sonofabitch stalked right out into the alley, dog at his side. Driven, man. Oh yeah… he had the fuckin' devil in his walk. Nothing right was waiting for him.

What had _Blanco_ done to Téa? Didn't matter now. Shit was on and Rolon had called it like a goddamn soothsayer.

She had run in the rain to Jedediah just like _Blanco _wanted. Jed had gotten a call early in the morning to come get Téa and the kid did right by calling Rolon. So Rolon followed, giving space on purpose. Telling the kid, "Lemme just be your bodyguard, okay, '_chacho?" _So Rolon stood at that perch… saw the whole exchange in the alley. _Madre de dios… Blanco _could be such a bastard when he wanted. Hanging out that window, iron hands gripping the sides of the window sill, cigarette in his mouth, looking down through that stringy long hair at his son with such arrogant bullshit… dragging his words like a dead body through mud.

_I wanna see her run. Splash dem puddles with dem lawyer... boots._

Rolon wrongly assumed Jed had an infinite place of forgiveness for his father. Holy hell, one look at the kid and Rolon grabbed him, smashed him against a lamppost to cool his ass down. Jed was gonna drop Téa off and come a'calling on his Pops and… after the incident with the gun… Rolon couldn't let it happen. No way. Rolon had kinda recovered… he got his friend's point. Kinda knew now where Todd had come from. His history. Such… _powerlessness_. He got that people needed to be made dead for what they did to him, to the whore, to a lot of innocent children. He always got that… but he had never _felt_ it. Getting mouth-fucked with a gun will make a man _feel_ things.

The catch was… it was only by the grace of God that Todd hadn't accidentally fired that gun into Rolon's mouth. He shuddered. So yeah. No way was Rolon gonna let that kid deal with his very unhinged father right now. It was difficult enough that Téa kept getting in the monster's face. That woman! Stubborn as a mule and competitive as hell. Bottom line, she was going to keep at it until Todd forgave her for her transgression. She needed to win.

FUCK.

"He's trying to get you out the way," Rolon explained. "Whatever happened last night is nothing today. He wants you and her gone because he got ugly shit goin' on. So go back to the hotel. I got him." He shook the kid when he started to object again… "I GOT HIM!"

Téa stepped in. She'd been tearful, bothered by whatever had gone on and for sure Rolon would question her later about it, but some kinda light went on with her. She knocked her head back, got a look on her face like she was mad at herself. "He's right, Jed, Todd chased me off in his way. He does have something happening. Of course, of course… _mijo_, let's go_._"

It took some more cajoling but Jed finally agreed. He'd take Téa back and not come back for a while.

"I'm not staying away forever," he promised. And Rolon knew that was true. All that mattered now was that the kid and Téa were safe.

Rolon saw curtains move upstairs. A man in the window just checking the scenery. Didn't make Rolon or anything. Two heavy-hitting MK soldiers were coming up the block, right on time. Good loyal men. They'd been dealing with _Blanco_ and had gained a lot of respect for him during his time here.

Arturo asked, "_You called, brother_?"

"_You're fast."_

"_Been up all night," _he chuckled, _Vicente _laughing conspiratorially.

"_I need backup. I have no idea what inside that house so be prepared for anything. Even blood."_

"_This is for you?"_

"_And Blanco, yes."_

"_We're here, brother." _He showed off his _pistola_ in his jacket_._ Added, "_Russian. The best."_

"_Communist perfection," _Rolon smirked. They all laughed,

When he heard Abram bark, Rolon kicked off the wall. Watching time was over. Headed across the street around the back of the place, following where Todd had gone, his men behind him.

He had a bad fuckin' feeling about this.

* * *

A long silence hovered in between the two men. Caro glanced around nervously, trying to move away, trying to get out of Todd's grip. He huffed, "Elon is dead. Pedro killed him."

Lightness flowed through Todd… a deserved killing. "I did not know that. Or did I? Why?"

"Because Pedro wanted to protect you. We threw him and Ivan into the ocean. Elon would have caused trouble over Ivan's killing." He huffed, twisting in Todd's hold, adding, "Pedro was angry at me when he learned of my relationship with you, of our special visits. He does not understand men like us. You appreciate the education, as you said. You're thankful, you said. Right? We are connected, you and I."

"Have you seen Pedro?"

"No! _Blanco… you are hurting me_."

"Who is here, though? You did not answer my question. Who is upstairs?"

The nervousness was palpable. Caro held Todd's wrists, his legs twisting beneath him, unable to escape. "I have guests. A Canadian couple."

"You must have a child then… upstairs. Your shirt is open… you dressed quickly... " Todd twitched, his lip lifting ever so slightly. He squeezed the arm of the wooden chair, his other hand pressing on Caro's throat.

"_Blanco…"_

"I need to see them, Caro. Do you understand? I have an obligation to myself, to our business. Ivan nearly wrecked it. I don't trust you like I used to."

"I assure you, these people are nothing like Ivan. I am here… we all share similar sensibilities. _Blanco... please…"_

But it was too late. Todd got to his feet and re-adjusted his hold, grabbing Caro by the arm, a new iron fist that got Caro to whimper and cry out, "_Blanco! Please!" _His strength was truly no match.

Todd walked heavily up the stairs, remembering the freedom of being without Pedro's paws on him, without the restraint. Caro trailed behind him, talking, asking, pleading, pulling back, trying to negotiate release… but his words flew to the side, flew behind him, meaningless butterfly wings. Dust motes. Ocean spray. They hit the second floor and… and… oh god, Todd could feel Ivan beneath him. The smell of Ivan. He put a hand on the wall and turned slightly to Caro.

"How many children are in these rooms?"

"Just two," Caro huffed, still making noise at Todd's pinching fingers_._ "They are happy and good at what they do. The Canadian couple pays a lot of money for those children. They support our filmmaking. We could lose a lot of money if you kill them!"

Todd chuckled, "You think I will kill them in front of children? I have _some _ethics, you know."

"I don't know anything," Caro whined. "You confuse me."

"You have no idea about _confusion_. Try being in my head a day or two."

The room was exactly the one where Ivan died. Todd turned the door knob and stepped inside, Caro obviously Todd's captive. There was a man and a woman, naked in the bed. Sheets had long been abandoned. They gasped loudly at seeing Todd, sitting up, shocked. He stood cold and tall, expressionless. There were two unclothed children in the bed, a boy and a girl, as young as Alicia. Eight maybe. Red-headed children with blue eyes, blue as the sky. Their eyes were open wide. They sat criss-cross on the bed. Todd saw immediately they were twins. Almost identical but for the gender. The man and woman had been lying down on their sides, flanking the children.

Caro rasped, "I am so sorry, my friends. This is my business partner. He is a bit high strung. He is new to our Havana venture. We have had a disagreement. Stay calm."

The two children reached to each other and hugged immediately. Abram was no comfort, growling in the doorway and looking the black devil himself. Todd walked close to the bed, Caro still in hand. The adults were stunned, sputtering, "What is going on here, Caro? What does this man want?"

Speaking to the children and ignoring Caro's meaningless responses, Todd smiled, a cool one, and said, "Don't be afraid, I will not hurt you. EVER." He reached down and picked up the sheet, handing it to the children. He said, "Get off the bed. Sit there… right there... " He directed them to huddle on the floor. They were so scared. And he smiled again. "You play tents?" They nodded. "Play it." He covered them with the sheet. They took it and hid under it. On the floor. He could see the sheet shivering.

Todd looked around for equipment. He struggled with Caro… the man had respectable strength. "Settle the hell down," he growled, biting down, his jaw flexing, tensing. He saw some cords… but nothing for good leverage. He imagined he'd get them to kill themselves. A hard sell but he thought maybe… maybe… the slowness would lift his soul…

"Caro! Should we leave?! I want to leave! This man doesn't act like a partner!"

He wanted to use his gun, wanted the violence of it, but he couldn't. The children… he could not do it. The couple was arguing with him now, proclaiming that this wasn't what it looked like. The man… he was trying to protect the woman. Stupid, really. There was a camera on the bed and just as Todd saw it, the woman made a grab for it but she was weak and he had it first and with it, he backhanded her. Blood flew out of her mouth as she fell onto the mattress. The man screamed. Black hair all over the place. Yeah, she had black hair. The man had gray spiky hair. Todd eyed him lazily and finally let go of Caro. He took his gun out. Camera in one hand, weapon in the other. Pointed it at Caro, then at the man and said, "SHUT UP."

Caro ran to the children...making sure they were okay. Fixed the sheet, adjusted it so they were better covered. Funny how he went to them instead of running. Oh… he couldn't leave because Abram was at the door. Growling like the base monster dog he was. Teeth bared. Caro was stuck in the room. Terrified of the dog.

Todd pointed the gun at the flabbergasted man with an arm around the woman, screaming, arguing, as he flipped through the pictures on the camera. Eyes on them, then back on the pictures. Eyes on them, then back again. Both were guilty of horrific crimes. Beyond horrific. Todd wanted to be human. So badly he wanted to be_ deeply human_, like Téa said_. _So badly he wanted to spare lives for Benicio Juarez's project, for the sake of the almighty justice system. He put the camera down at his feet and just stood there. Contemplating their pathetic existence.

"What are your names?"

"Just kill us, you bastard."

"Eh. I want to know names first."

"Susan and Lawrence Warner. We are going to call the Embassy! We were doing nothing wrong!"

Todd laughed, his eyes laughing, too. They were so funny, these people. "Uh… can't photoshop shit on a digital SLR. You were definitely doing something wrong with those kids. They are eight years old and you were fucking them. You made them cry."

"_Blanco…," _Caro pleaded.

"Do you have plastic bags? And tape?"

The woman screamed and Todd was so losing patience. "Tell her to shut her fucking mouth or I will kill her right now. To hell with my good moral nature."

"WE WERE DOING NOTHING WRONG!" The woman yelled. Kept screaming. And Todd saw her through a black black haze. He racked the slide of the gun. Raised it. Aimed it right at her screaming head. Fuck his morals. They were gonna die. Now now now now now have to die now now nownownownownow...

Except, he suddenly couldn't move. His arm was suddenly aimed toward the ceiling… and he could hardly breathe because someone's hard unforgiving arms were strangling the breath out of him.

Rolon huffed in his ear, "_Hermano, hermano_… not here… there are children in the room."

Realization hit him like a truck. Todd groaned like someone was gutting him, deep and throaty, choking mad. "No, no, no, no, no! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! THEY HAVE TO FUCKING DIE! ALL OF THEM!"

"My brother, I know… I know…I'm sorry to do this..."

He was fighting Rolon desperately, kicking, squirming, pushing, but Rolon was strong as an ox… stronger than _El Diablo Blanco_ when he had all his wits about him. He swung the mad king away from the couple and bashed him painfully hard against the wall, face first, Todd grunting like a slammed quarterback. With one hand, Rolon took Todd's hand with the gun in it and crushed it against the wall, the weapon falling. Todd shouted with pain at that and Rolon breathed, "Sorry… sorry…" He stepped on the gun so nobody could get to it. Pressed his shoulder solidly against Todd's back with all his weight, keeping him in place.

Once secure, Rolon pulled his own gun out and aimed it at Caro. Huffing with great effort at Todd's manically trying to get out from under the rock at his back, he growled, "A soldier is waiting in the kitchen. You are to go to him with the children. Do not fuck around, Caro, if you want any chance at staying alive."

Todd was growling, spitting crazy mad, not even able to form words. Rolon hissed, "_Stay put, Blanco… or it will be you who will be dead."_

Arturo was in the room, his gun drawn, keeping the Canadian's in the bed. Caro glanced around in a panic and got the children. Abram had entered the room and Rolon pointed to the couple, hissing, "Danger!" The dog then kept the Canadian couple cornered. Whenever they tried to move, Abram barked and showed his teeth. They were screaming, arguing, trying to stay alive, yelling that the Canadian government would have everyone's heads.

As soon as the kids were out of the room, Rolon commanded to Arturo, _"Take them to the basement and kill them both._" And that got Todd to moan, a wounded lion losing his prey. Rolon called Abram to his side.

The soldier did what he was told. He was big and had no trouble pulling the two out of the bed, dragging them down the stairs. They knew they were going to die and howled at the reality of it. The room quieted. And Todd growled deeper and more agonizingly than Abram, words now coming to him.

"I needed that...I NEEDED TO DO THAT YOU FUCKING BASTARD! How can you do this to me?!"

Rolon cursed him right back, "I am saving your fucked-up ass, _cabrón… _you had no backup… no fucking plan, nothing in your fucked-up head… stop fighting me, _Blanco!" _Rolon wouldn't ease up and neither did Todd. But then Todd relaxed a little, catching his breath despite his chest being hard on that wall. Banged his head in frustration, forceful hits, sweating like a motherfucker. Rolon still didn't move, didn't let him go… keeping him in place… moments ticking by… finally the mad king stopped moving, panting like a freight train…

"Shit, Manning... I'm not the enemy, I'm here to help you." Rolon's boot was wedged in between Todd's feet and he felt a give, a weakening, Todd's body slipping a little. "You giving up?"

Todd rolled his head, rubbing his cheek on the wall, rasping, "What's happening… where are we… what is this..."

"What did you say?"

"What's this place," Todd said, "what's this place, what's-what's-what's…"

"Oh hell no… oh you are fucking shitting me-"

And sure as shit… rabid-mad _Blanco_ collapsed in his arms and went into a full-on motherfucking seizure. Rolon got his mouth hit by that hard-ass head. Still he held him and did his best to gentle his fall to the floor but the seizure couldn't be gentled and the floor was hurtful. The dog whimpered and barked and grabbed Rolon's pant legs to pull him away from Todd. Rolon moved away, the dog digging his body under Todd's to soften the blows, and if it wasn't so painful to watch he would have laughed at the unfailing timing his MK brother had.

He squatted down to wait it out, eyes on the boots thrashing the corner of the wall and floor, on _Blanco's _curled hands. Hated that he didn't breathe during much of it. Cursing and tiredly rubbing his face, Rolon sighed, "Oh _'mano_… I am sorry I had to take the kill away from you. Good fucking thing I did."

The hellish spasms finally quit and Rolon wiped the foaming saliva and blood away from Todd's lips with his jacket sleeve. He laid a heavy hand on his brother's head, the breathing still taking time to normalize. He picked up the camera and saw the pictures. Sick, sick shit. Jesus. Todd gasped a hard breath and let it out slowly and noisily, spitting out more bloody saliva. Rolon cursed some more, cleaned him up a little more.

Arturo was soon at the door and Rolon adjusted himself to hide Todd from him.

"_Is _Blanco_ not well?"_

"_He is fine… I had to get rough with him. He is going to be upset when he wakes up."_

Arturo chuckled. "_I am surprised… I have not seen too many men get the best of him."_

"_I know his weak spots."_

The soldier laughed then didn't. Said, _"It is done. I'll move them tonight. They are hidden well. If someone comes, it's not noticeable."_

"_Did you check the other rooms? Anyone else in the house?"_

_"All clear."_

"_And Caro?"_

"_He is in the kitchen."_

"_Take him to Pedro at the beach house… you know where that is?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good. Thank you, my friend. The Canadians were terrible people. Defiling children. Defiling Cuba. Leave the little ones here with Vicente. Find their clothes… for God's sake. We will take care of them."_

The soldier then left. Todd groaned and gazed blankly up at Rolon. Never able to talk in this state.

"Rest, you bastard. We'll talk when you get to yourself in a bit, yeah? You can tell me what the fuck you were thinking coming here."

Todd shuddered and rolled to his side, snoring quietly, huddling next to Abram. Rolon moved to rest his back at the wall. Once again, laid his hand on his friend's head. For all the shit they'd been through… he was compelled to stay and face _Blanco's_ wrath. It was the least he could do for depriving him of the kill. He pulled out his cell phone, a Cuban edition. He called the only place he wanted to call at the moment. Her hotel room.

Téa answered, "Yes?"

"_Bueno, mamita…" _

"What's going on?"

"Let's see, I have two dead rapists in the basement, two raped children in the kitchen, a soldier with a gun to Caro's head… and yes, your husband. _Blanco _is unconscious here from a very timely seizure. He was about to kill this couple right in front of the two children… that's how fucked-up he is. Good times in Havana, yeah?"

"Rolon…oh my god."

"Yes, but there is no God here. This house… is a Godless place. I need you to send what's-his-name to get the kids."

"Are the children badly hurt?"

"No, nothing we can see."

"Who's there?"

"Just my MK soldier."

"Ken can't be exposed. It'll take time to make arrangements."

Reluctantly, he then suggested, "Why don't you come then. The children need a woman anyway I think. They are afraid. It is okay. _Blanco _is not a threat right now. I'll give you the address. Just put the technician on warning."

"Does he need a hospital?"

Rolon bent over and lifted the eyelids of his friend, slapped his cheeks. Todd opened his eyes and gave that blank look, then resumed his sleep. "No. This is a typical deal. We been here before, _eh Blanco_?" Rolon sighed and asked sadly, his voice tempered, "Are you okay, Téa? Did he hurt you last night? I cannot believe you slept there..."

She was quiet a long time. "I can't talk about it right now but it wasn't the kind of hurt you need to address."

He couldn't help it, he growled… "_Hijo de puta...pinche cabrón…" _He grunted softly, "_You got caught up in him, didn't you? He hurt you in bed, didn't he?"_

"_Rolon, don't worry yourself. I will be fine. I just need to think. But right now let's take care of these children."_

It was hard not to punch the shit out of Todd… lying on the floor, helpless, unprotected. Rolon rasped to her, "When you come here… don't bother talking to him. He understands only violence right now."

"I can't do that, and you know it. I'll be there."

* * *

Todd didn't move an inch. He was sitting on the floor, back at the wall, legs stretched out. He was nauseous, dead-limbed. Glass of water next to him. Rolon was kicking back on the bed, casually pointing a gun at him. He had slept his seizure off. Woke up and wanted to kill something… namely, Rolon. But the gun stopped him. And his body. He had nothing in him. Completely drained. And Téa in the doorway stopped him even more from moving. He felt like he was back in Ty's kennel. He drank the water, sipped it. Brooded and tongued the edge of the glass. He glanced out the window, guessing it was late afternoon.

"Where are the kids," he asked.

Téa said, "A sister from the convent picked them up. Caro is at the beach house. This house is empty other than two dead bodies in the basement. You're racking up the numbers, Todd."

"Fuck you. They deserved to die and I don't even get to take credit." He snorted like a child. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Setting the glass down. "Fuck both of you. All of you. Fuck you. What the fuck do any of you know?"

Téa said softly, "We don't know. You're right on that."

"Why are you answering him?" He turned to Todd. "Don't talk to her like that. What were you going to do today? All by yourself?"

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife, you cheating fucking bastard. You gonna tell me how to fuck her too? Huh? Learn some new tricks?"

Rolon chuckled, "You know… you understand... how ridiculous that sounds coming from YOU. You with the fucking _maricon _in your bed. You're the one who can tell US new tricks."

"Fuck you."

"Rolon… stop."

Todd glared at Téa. But underneath it, she could see the increasing hurt. And she hated herself for seeing it. Made her weak. "Rolon… can you leave us?"

"Are you crazy?! I'm not moving until he starts acting like a man worthy of being MK."

"You mean like a child rapist?!"

"That's not MK and you know it. If it was you wouldn't have it burned on your skin."

"Gentleman!" She huffed. "He's not going to hurt me. The seizure… it helps quiet him."

Todd eyed Rolon, tilted his head. A brightness in his eyes that Rolon didn't like. "Yeah…_Rolon..._the seizure shuts me down like a bitch."

"Woman…"

"Please. I'm fine."

Todd mimicked her but it was aimed at Rolon. _"Pleeaaaase…"_

Rolon cursed under his breath and then threatened Todd with his life if he hurt her in any way. Stormed out of the room. Started checking the house again, just in case. Doors opening and slamming shut. Téa plopped herself in front of Todd. Across from him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No."

"You need a doctor?"

"No." He visibly swallowed, wiped his mouth again. His lips down-turned. He was very much post-seizure. Téa recognized it. He wouldn't fight. He always lost aggression in this time. "Seizure's better than heroin, you know," he said. "I'm not seeing shit, not thinking crazy right now. Short-circuited everything. Shit is quiet."

"Were you surprised to find Caro here?"

"No. But I didn't expect him."

"What were you planning to do... here?"

"Take measurements. I wanted to clear the house… 'cause I want to blow this place sky high when all the pedophiles are gathered here in one place. Simple plan."

"Hard to execute, no?"

"No. I just need to find secret rooms. He might hide kids. I can't blow this place up until it's cleared. Really cleared."

"You know how crazy that sounds, right? The seizure isn't helping this train of thought."

"People said going to the moon was crazy, too… and yet here we are. We're off to Mars. Moon's old news."

They were quiet. Todd glared at her, at the window, and back again. Téa studied him. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "…about last night, I don't think you're gay."

"Oh my fucking GOD." He rolled his head against the wall. "You call _me _crazy. Just forget last night."

"I can't. I need to sort it out. I think you're pretty straight, actually, with a tendency to sexual fluidity."

He just stared at her for a few moments. Then, "There is something wrong with you. You're talking about last night when there are two dead Canadians in the basement. Shouldn't you talk about THAT?"

"I'll get to the dead bodies soon enough. There is an order to everything. First though… you used Rico to hurt me. It worked. But it's not fair to do that to him."

He breathed out like a bull, nose flaring. Sat up a little straighter. A little bit of hate hitting her. Téa shook her head, making a left turn. "You know what… you're right. You're in no position. Let's go downstairs, get you some food. You need to eat. We'll talk later." Truth was she could see how wounded he was. The seizure took a lot out of him and so did the morning… and night… and she was… just talking. Sometimes she said stupid selfish things.

"No, no, no. You want to throw shit on the floor… use my post-fit state of mind to get information. I know you. Okay, Delgado, here it is. I get hard if he touches me, anywhere on me. Didn't start out like that but it's like that now. I get hard kissing him. And you know what else? I get really fucking turned on when he comes on me… when I watch it happen. I think that's pretty gay, don't you?"

She almost laughed. "Todd…"

"I'm not fuckin' laughing here. I'm serious."

"I know. I'm sorry. Men like to see an orgasm happen. Why do you think the cumshot is so popular in heterosexual porn?"

He groaned, his head in his hands. "Whatever. Time for you to go home. Because… I'm so very gay."

"Please...stop…" She laughed softly, sadly, and the edges of a smile broke out on his face. "You care deeply about him," she said, "…maybe even love him… you're a man who feels things that other people don't. You understand things that other people don't. You are you. And you should treat him like how you feel about him. Treat him like someone you love."

"I'm going to puke now."

"I'm just saying… _don't be afraid. _Let's get through this thing with Caro… and then you can tell me you're gay. Or not. Or whatever it is you want to be. I love you, just as you are. All the bad, the good, the in-between, the way you love people. It's much greater, broader, more... _encircling _than I thought. I understand MK better now, how you might want to protect Pedro. I understand Brandy more, the love you had for her. And now Rico… you see good and find love in places most people just step right over."

He gazed at her a while, his brow deeply cut in thought. Things were too tangled to wrap his mind around all of it. He said, "I'm not doing that three-way shit again."

"Okay."

"And you… better not fuck Rico. I saw some shit going on between you two."

"I promise."

"And no fucking of Rolon either."

"Well, that's not fair. You get Rico… who do I get?"

She had been teasing but then she saw him turn away, his whole body, and long moments rolled past…

"Todd?"

And then she realized tears had come to him. And she knew this conversation had nothing to do with his voiceless crying. "Oh baby…," she said softly. She crawled to him, put her arms around him. Smoothed his hot head as he begun to let go of real pain, barely a drop in a bucket.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I am sorry you saw what happened to these children today. I am sorry you had to see Caro. _Mí amor...mí vida… I am so sorry for these things hurting you._ _I am so sorry such terrible things happened to you… and that you have to relive them every day without asking for them… it's not fair, is it?"_

She could feel him quaking with his breathless crying, sadness that seemingly came out of nowhere. It broke her… and she prepared for him to shove her away. He didn't. He just sobbed into her warmth, in her arms. She tightened her arms around him, tight, tight, and he pulled her to him.

He didn't want to cry, he'd been fighting it since he saw Caro… since he heard the things he had said about how he was… what it was like. The noise he made. He could cry until he died of old age and there would still be tears left. He felt her body and he wanted her to just stay, wanted everything to go away. All their fighting, all that happened, wanted it gone. He wanted the bullet scars to disappear, he wanted that shooting to have never happened, and wished like hell he'd have never gone to Statesville. He wished he'd never remembered Peter Manning raping him. Wished he could have stayed married to her since the first time around… wished… wished… wished… wished he could crawl up inside of her and be born again, born a child who'd be loved and saved and become a great and good man.

Fucking fantasy because all that shit happened except his being reborn. And here they were in a new kind of hell.

He held her away from him, hands on her arms…his bearded face wet with inconsolable sorrow... "Don't I scare you?"

"No. I see you. Clearer now. I am not afraid at all."

"I am."

"I know… Not that long ago, you got angry at me for asking about Statesville. You said, you were all about the forward view, the future. You were done with the past. Maybe that's where we need to be. Looking at tomorrow."

"After I kill people for the past."

She smiled… "I suppose that's part of the future since it didn't quite happen today." She held his face in her hands and he put his hand on hers, pressing it to him. "I don't expect your forgiveness because I don't know that I deserve it," she said. "But like I said before, maybe you can learn to trust me again."

He gave a hard nod. His mouth tight, tears rolling down his face again. No promises but maybe a step forward. She wrapped her arms around him again and listened to his weeping and tried not to cry herself because she did not walk in his shoes and this was not her pain. The two stayed that way a long while.

They did not know what the future would bring.

Rolon broke the closeness, his face unrevealing. He stepped into the room, arms crossed. Téa separated from Todd, trying to ignore his pained expression at the loss of her. He ran a hand through his hair. Rubbed his face hard.

"You need a plan because this shit… isn't working," Rolon said.

Téa eyed Todd, flying into all-business. "I agree. Your plan to eliminate a bunch of people helter-skelter in one glorious explosion isn't a good one. You have two goals: saving children and ending Caro's trafficking business. You need a move that will lead to those. Otherwise Juarez is likely to shoot you and he's a much better aim than I am."

"Is he here?"

"Not yet."

Todd stretched his leg and dug into his pocket. Sniffed. He pulled out a thumb drive. Handed it to Téa. "This is the paper trail. It ties Caro to Pedro. It shows where the money comes from, where it's going. Offshore accounts, laundering fronts. It's got names, places, amounts. No kids though. Give it to Ken. It needs work but it's pretty good."

Téa turned to Rolon, "This will delay Juarez. Maybe we can make a deal with Pedro."

"What do you want to do, brother?"

"Téa said it. Make a deal with Pedro. I think. I need to work it out, the parameters."

"And Caro?" Both Téa and Rolon had asked him.

"I want to talk to him more. I want him to tell me where every child is located. I want the names of every child he killed in snuff films. I will kill him after." He grit his teeth, got to his feet achingly, sore from the seizure, from fighting Rolon. Téa got to hers, too. He walked up to Rolon, "You will not take that away from me. He is mine. And Rico's. We get him."

Rolon nodded. "We will make sure that happens, Juarez or not."

"I'm outta here. I gotta walk." Rolon stopped him, grabbing him by the arm.

"I understand you, brother. I get it. You will get what you want and deserve. But you gotta do it right. Can you keep it together for a while?"

Todd looked at Téa and the baby in her belly. _Esperanza_. The gall to think of hope in a place like this. "Yeah, I'll keep it together."

He called Abram and the two walked past Téa and Rolon, not a glance back at all, not a single one. They walked down the stairs and out that house into the early evening. Todd paused in the busy street and watched the people passing him by. He was invisible. A nothing. Powerless. Empty. After he got Abram food from the _casita, _they walked to the beach. He took off his boots, took off his jacket and shirt and jeans… his nakedness hidden in the dark night. He ran fast, fast, fast into the water… jumping into the surf and swimming as far as he could. The cold took his breath away. He floated on his back behind the waves, Abram on the shore like a worried mother.

When the rain started to come, he opened his mouth to catch the drops, and he wondered if he had ever done that when he was a kid and he thought yeah, he did. And he loved it. He loved the taste of rain. He spread his arms and his legs and the cold did him good. He watched the clouds split to let moonlight shine down on the water and he thought about Téa, Rico, his babies at home, and then love and hate, and then just nothing.

Closed his eyes and drifted like seaweed.

And there in the Cuban sea, _El León _was all water, earth, light, darkness and air. He wasn't human at all and it was a beautiful fucking thing.

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Caged: Retribution_**

**Chapter 6**

He had wanted to disappear. He tasted the salt, felt the high of pre-hypothermia, and knew how easy it would be to become part of the earth again. _Just let go_, he thought, _you are barely human as it is. _Soon as he closed his eyes and went into the sea, he saw his Delgado and there, in that cold water, he completely understood her.

_You are the strongest person I know._

She was the palm tree in the hurricane, bending almost to the ground, swaying in the relentless wind and rain, fronds stretched up, even ripped off and flying, all the while never breaking, the solid trunk never moving. Like the palm tree, she was rooted in the ground during the storm and regained her full stature when the winds died. She'd survive him, she'd survive all of this. It left him in awe, his heart bursting with a mad desire to see her…

He scrambled for the water's surface and started for the shore, to whimpering Abram, _to Téa_. He swam and swam, except he seemed to get nowhere. He began to tire and slip under the water against his will, his body betraying him as usual. _Well, SHIT._ Now that he wanted to stand on his two feet on the sand, he was too fatigued to battle the sea's pull. Fucking fates, man! He felt a give, a crack in his sudden resolve. His want of Téa got consumed by the comfort of her survivability. She was a goddamn palm tree. The deep called him and he said, _okay, I give up. Ya' fuckin' WIN._

But then the pull changed. He felt firm hands on his feet, arms wrapping around his thighs, grabbing at his waist now, his shoulders… a strong body flush to his. He opened his eyes in the moonlit water and saw dark brown haunted eyes and parted lips...

_I will not die._

And in that moment, he knew the opposite to be true. Rico would die if Todd left him behind. He would slip into Havana's dark current and disappear. If not in body, then most certainly in soul. Unlike Téa, he would not survive the hurricane.

He then realized he was dealing with an _undertow… _a _riptide_ where the water beneath the surface could drown the strongest swimmers unless they knew the mechanics of the thing. _Swim to the side, swim to the side… _that's what he heard. Memories of a conversation with a California frat brother exploded to the forefront, a blond long-haired dude with a permanently sunburned nose and freckles who'd been telling all these midwestern boys the trials and tribulations of coastal life…

_The rip will kill you, bro. Water under the water that works against you. Top going in one direction, inside going in another. You gotta swim out of it, to the side, not the shore. Then ride the waves in. Safe and sound. I know, dude… sounds like… counter-intuitive._

So yeah,_ swim to the side! Be like… counter-intuitive! _He turned parallel to the beach and swam towards the distant lighthouse, moving away from the strong hidden current. He had to dig deep because he was weak from the riptide and the cold and the emotional war. But he was determined. His lungs squeezed tight and he kept breathing in spray and spitting out salt, swallowing a ton of water anyway. Abram followed him, running in the surf and meeting Todd when he finally tore out of the water. He promptly fell onto the sand on hands and knees, shaking from exhaustion and puking the Caribbean sea. The waves crashed behind him now, knocking him flat on his belly, foamy whitewater washing up around him. Abram pulled at his hair, teeth on his arm, loose jaw so he'd not pierce skin, pulling and growling and whimpering.

"Got it, okay, all good, I'm okay, buddy," he'd rasped, throat raw from the seawater. He crawled out, falling once, then getting to his feet at last. Abram jumped at his side, re-orienting Todd. He was shivering like a bitch and followed his dog until he reached his clothes. Collapsed on his ass and then fell onto his back, eyes on cracked clouds. Abram lay warm and heavy on him because the dog thought Todd was in seizure mode and needed protection. He barked and howled. Todd reached for him and petted him roughly, "Hey, hey… I'm just lying here, I'm fine, shut the fuck up. Don't need people finding me naked on the beach." He chuckled and kept rubbing the puppy's thick body, letting him lick his face. "Gotta make sure Rico's at the house, yeah? Let's do that."

Yeah, so he nearly got killed trying to come home, nearly died trying not to sink. But he was still disoriented. He should have headed east to the city. Instead, he headed west. When Todd finally looked up, wondering why it was taking so long to get to the lights and sounds of Havana, he'd come to a full stop at Pedro Moreno's beach house. He stood outside, able to see the downstairs living room from the beach-side _camino_, see it HD-clear because it was midnight black and there weren't any street lights. Abram was antsy now. Todd stared for a long time at Pedro Moreno ranting at a seated Manuel Caro. Caro had his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and Pedro was standing over him. Caro wore the same _guayabera_ from earlier in the day. Whatever was happening was intense, the walls too thick to let him hear the words, the waves too noisy. He stared mostly at Pedro.

_Pedro… Pedro with his arms out, ready to give his life to his son, be a father, give him a home if he didn't have one anymore. Pedro... who was a fucking saint in comparison to Caro. Well... he did set the shit up. But certainly, he was not cut from the same cloth. But has he been redeemed? What say you, Pedro Moreno? _

He stared blankly as the conflict continued but startled when Pedro leaned back suddenly and kicked the shit out of Caro, making the chair and Caro fall backwards. Todd shut his eyes to the violence, knowing the distance he felt was temporary. He licked his dry lips and opened his eyes to the second-story balcony.

Gloria was standing at the railing watching him. She wore a long dress she often wore as a nightgown under a terry robe. He remembered how easily it all came off. He was instantly aware of how cold he was. It made him want to get in bed with her, feel her arms around him, like they had so many times. He wanted her sexual heat because it had always been effective at warming him, at bringing him back to humanness… but his picture of it… it wasn't HER warmth he wanted.

He saw Téa.

_Aliveness, two bodies intertwined, breathing hard, cleaving to midnight moments before the sun comes up and the hell starts again._ _Mi vida, mi amor. _

He shook his head like Abram did, pushing her out of his mind because he didn't trust her yet despite wanting her like he wanted air. Gloria called for him, a soft sound, a gentle one. _"Blanco…,"_ she said. There was a plea in it. He gazed at the dog and left the house's shadows. Boots scraped the dirt road and he eyed the city lights ahead of him, steps guided by the bright moon above tearing through the clouds.

* * *

The club was warm, smoky, noisy, and hopping with people Rico knew. He drank himself into a light-headed bliss that let him forget things. He danced close with a husky man, pure _Cubano._ Yanko had a wife at home, children, flew the Cuban flag and passionately supported Castro and his beliefs… except here in the wee hours of the night, here, he could just be who he was, be how he was born. The man was thick and hairy and sweaty and wore a flowery shirt that didn't fit right. He made Rico smile with his self-deprecating comments…

_You are too good for me._

_My god, you are beautiful, too beautiful for a worker like me._

_You feel good, I hope I don't crush you._

_Did I step on you? My clumsy feet are too big._

_My hands are too fat to hold you proper._

_Why are you dancing with me, guapo?_

Rico grinned and said, "_You make me feel light on my feet!"_

The man laughed heartily and grabbed Rico tighter to his massive chest, the two swinging around and bending and moving to the beat. Rico resisted the eager looks of other men on the dance floor. He hadn't been working for a while. Until tonight. He smiled and gazed at Yanko. Silently offering himself.

"_My sweet boy, I wish I had money for you. Do we have to stop dancing?"_

"_You don't need money to dance. To make me smile at you. Keep up that swing!"_

He had napped in the pimp's house because all his stuff was there. The four-story brothel was just the same as when he left it months ago. His single cot-like bed in Laura's room on the fourth floor was untouched, his things stuffed under it, as well as stuffed into a chest next to it. As if he never left. As if he was always going to return. All the workers lived in these tiny rooms with the beds and wooden chests. Two workers to a room. The second floor had bigger rooms with bigger beds for clients only. The third floor had the special rooms for the people into bondage games. The bathroom there, the spacious bathroom with the tiled seats in the open shower… well, that was for Rico and others like him.

The humiliation games.

He had climbed the stairs and lay on his bed. Slept the morning away. When he woke, he was confused, forgetting he'd come back to the brothel. He collapsed once more and Laura came into the room, sitting on her own bed. She was a small woman and wore nothing but red to match her golden-red hair. Always dangling earrings. She asked, "_Are you back, hermanito? Your customers miss you. Especially Montez."_

"_Who is shitting on him now?"_

"_Tumelo, but you know he is not as good as you. You use words the customers want. You respond the way they like."_

The reality of his return brought a rush of deep pain and Rico had to wipe his face of tears, turning to the wall, lying on his side. Laura moved to his bed, sitting. She rubbed his back and sighed. "_They always say they love you. They make promises. The love feels so real. But they are all the same. They leave you at the end because we are whores, Rico."_

"_I didn't believe him, I never did…"_

"_Then why are you crying, chico?"_

"_Because I'm stupid."_

How many men had told him the same words his lion had told him? How many had promised to save him? Too many to count. Even in a bed next to his dead five-year old brother Hilario, the killer had caressed Rico's face and said how special he was, how godly, how far above his brother, which was why Hilario died and Rico didn't. I will come back for you, the man had said, I will not abandon you to this Caro. _You are an angel! I love you! _Even the killer made such unfulfilled promises.

_I will not abandon you._

_I will not die._

_I will not abandon you._

_I will not die._

He would not die if he worked for Gavín again. He hung with his friends all afternoon. It had felt good, really, like family. He had opened the old wooden chest next to his bed as rain fell in the late afternoon and touched his pencils, his pens, his paints and notebooks. He once dreamed of travelling to New York to become a real artist. He had dreams of the city and it felt so real, so familiar, the scents and the noise and the English and the people. Fast, fast, everyone moved so fast in his dreams. He'd given it up though. He would just continue his midnight painting of Havana.

Nobody could touch his work, high up in those spaces… there, _he _was untouched. He closed the chest.

His pimp had soon darkened the door. Gave Rico the usual terms and he agreed. 60% to the pimp, 40% to the whore less expenses for supplies. A room, a bed, and doctor visits were covered. At the end, Gavín had yanked Rico up by the shirt and huffed in his face, his breath stinking of cigars and stomach acid, "_I knew you would be back. He figured out you were nothing special, eh? Nothing but a whore._" Dropped him hard and laughed all the way down the stairs, laughed until Rico couldn't hear him anymore.

_Come outside, Rico… qué guapo, qué rico… come kiss me outside._

Yanko, the circus bear, had been pushed to the side and another man got into his place. An old client of Rico's, Lorenzo. They danced close and Rico turned his face because the man smelled like garlic and sweat with no soap or cologne to lessen the pungency. No sweetness, no modesty, no soul to counter the bad. Rico gazed regretfully at Yanko. Lorenzo kissed Rico's neck and ran hands up his legs, grabbing his ass in the tight red pants in honor of Laura and his re-entry into _la vida de discoteca_, saying, "_How handsome you are, hombre… come outside with me. God, you have a great ass. Let's fuck in the back like we used to… I have cash today, enough for a feast…"_

The man smiled, pretty teeth flashing, his soft touch assuring at least. He liked straight fucking, he used condoms, and always came fast when he touched Rico's cock…

_Fuck… fuck… reluctant pleasure in those light eyes glancing down… lemme see you come._

Rico shuddered and forced a smile and said, of course. The man had cash and Gavín would be expecting money in the morning so he might as well as get to it. They slipped towards the back of the club, Rico seeing the circus bear's sad eyes. Rico offered a silent promise to be back. He'd get a kiss, yeah? Kisses are free.

_I love you, okay? Not going to say it again. I will not abandon you._

Rico squeezed shut his eyes, long enough to shut thoughts down and get back to work. He let Lorenzo lead him into the cool night, the alley empty, the moon breaking through the clouds. He did not wonder if _Blanco_ was looking for him. _El León _would be with Téa tonight, in her hotel room. _Tell me not to be afraid. _He rubbed his chest, the way _Blanco_ rubbed those bullet wounds. He must be crazy to feel pain the way _Blanco_ did. He'd never been shot and yet the burn ripped into him hotter, deeper, with every step into the darkness, with every squeeze of Lorenzo's sweaty hand.

_How can I tell you not to be afraid, mí león, when I am terrified of every day, terrified that this life is all I have? That there will always be another Gavín, another customer, another moonless night. That Caro will forever be inside of me, like poison, like tainted blood, in a way that even you cannot ever comprehend._

They reached a place down the alley where there were large crates and boxes and metal containers which created all kinds of cubbies for illicit connections. The Maze, _el Laberinto, _home to whores and perverts. Lorenzo gently pushed him into one of the bleaker spaces and when Rico turned, he was looking at a retreating client. A face changed and pained. Lorenzo was backing out, heading back to the open air.

"_I hope you forgive me, Rico."_

* * *

Abram collapsed on the bedroom floor of Sylvia's, dead beat from their long walk, snoring already. Todd eyed the clock on the side table. A little after one in the morning. Where the fuck was Rico? All his shit was still here except for one of his bags… no, wait. There was a pile of clean clothes, Todd's clothes only, a pile that had been gone through, the clothes half folded and spread about. As if Rico had pulled his own laundry out of the stack. He'd taken the larger messenger bag… like he left with all he could carry.

From a hallway telephone, Todd called Téa's room at her hotel. Maybe Rico had gone to her. Her voice sounded sleepy as she sniffled a scratchy, "_Bueno?"_

He closed his eyes at hearing her voice and rubbed the phone against his head. Her voice… god, how it cut him. In it, he saw her bend to him in the storm he brought her. He asked thickly, "Do you have Rico with you?"

She was quiet some seconds and then said in her serious tone, "No… I'm sorry. He left again?"

_Bend, bend, bend..._

"Yeah."

"What did you do? You must have been as bad to him as you were to me and Jed. Please tell me you didn't hurt him."

_Fronds flying and tearing away… lemme see you run in the rain._

He didn't answer for some moments, sighing heavily. "I was _rude_."

It was her turn to be quiet long beats. "Do you want me to send Jed to help you search for him?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. He'll help you."

"He hates me. As he should."

"He cannot hate you - he knows you, you're his father. Rolon will go, too."

_Stretch upwards to the light, stand tall, reaching, reaching. You are a fucking palm tree._

He resisted the impulse to ask if Rolon was right next to her. "No… I'm good. Go back to sleep."

He said a choked goodbye and went back to the bedroom. Had to end the call before the distance in his head faded and he started to feel the day and the losses and the fear and the horror of Caro…. before the raw desire for Delgado's strength and understanding love and patience pummeled him. Before he got crazy all over again about Rolon.

It would be easy to abandon Rico for her at the moment. To test out his limits of trust.

He would do it, he'd go running to that fucking hotel room, throw Rolon out… but for the feel of Rico on his legs in the sea, but for seeing those eyes in the ocean as the rip tried to pull him back out. He would go to her room and get in her bed and hold her to him and try trusting her… but for hearing Rico whisper in his ear, "_I will not die."_

"God fucking DAMNIT!" He cleared the top of the dresser, clothes and porcelain tea set from England flying, pretty pink and blue and ivory china in pieces. Unfixable. Abram popped his head up. Flopped back down when he saw Todd settle at the bed and ask the empty space, "Where are you, _mari_?"

He looked around the room, not sure his next step. Noticed a lone notebook on the bed, near the pillow. He picked it up. Pencil drawings. Sketches. Good ones of the city, of people. He then came across awfully familiar eyes. _His own._ Turned the pages slower, finding his mouth, his nose, his eyes and cheeks… the scar... _oh my fucking god._ The drawings were of Todd... pretty goddamn specific… of his naked muscled body on the linen-draped bed at the beach house. Sprawled. Scars, tattoos, long messed hair, a sleeping cock in a patch of wildness. A lot of time went into the drawing. Proved how unconscious Todd was. How dead to the world. He had no idea that Rico was this good… but there was something else in the drawings.

Todd found his heart aching…

_I love you, okay? Not going to say it again._

_Coño, don't fucking SAY that. I don't even KNOW what this IS. And if I don't, YOU don't._

Well, if this picture wasn't love… oh fucking HELL. Todd ran a hand through his tightened hair…then palmed his lips as he bit his tongue. Todd hated pictures of himself, finding them ugly, possessed, dark with history. Even the ones where he was happy, he could see the hate, the potential for destruction. Always flipped them over or glanced away or hid them. But these, these careful drawings in silvery-black... a sound came from his throat… a whimper maybe. These were beautiful. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Rico saw beauty in Todd, in his lion... like an undercurrent, a riptide beneath the rough waters. He always thought Téa was crazy to ever say he was beautiful… and here now was this person, this _man…_

Men hated Todd with good reason… but it seemed they'd hated him forever. Barring precious few, men only brought violence to him. Abuse. He didn't count his children in this grand judgment. Reese was still a baby and Jed… well, even Jed made sure to get his licks in. He closed his eyes and he could explain well enough in his head why Rico's touches were so goddamn important to him. Their gentleness… the cautiousness… the only seeming motivation to bring Todd pleasure and… safety.

_Do not be afraid… I will not hurt you. _

He didn't have words for it. Only sensations, images, a letting-go...

_Fuckin' Rico._

Suddenly, visions of Brandy hit him. The things she did when she felt alone, when she felt Todd had abandoned her. She did dangerous things because pain made her feel alive. Rico doesn't like pain, he likes…

FUCK.

Todd stormed to the remaining bag… searching for the blue scarf Rico thought Todd didn't know about. He threw the shit out and found nothing… searched the drawers… under the bed, looked through the pile of clothes Sylvia had washed.

NOTHING. Fucking HELL.

He stormed down the stairs, leaving the dog. He blew out the back door and hit the streets. He wouldn't have a seizure again, this he knew. Abram was good protection but he didn't need it. Todd was running on pure adrenaline, pure fear. There was so much to be afraid of.

He searched as he walked, every side street, every alley. Realized fast the impossibility of the effort. Needle in a goddamn haystack. The man could be anywhere. The time of night said he'd be inside. Hotels. A client's home. Gavín's brothel. The bathrooms of clubs. If so, Rico would be lost and Todd couldn't bear it. But what could he do? Maybe pray a little. Maybe pray to the fucking GODS that Rico did not have the self-destructive gene that Brandy had.

The cold bit at him and he chewed on his lip as he searched the surrounding red-light district. He wouldn't go back to Sylvia's until he gave the accessible places a shot.

He checked a couple of clubs and didn't see him. He finally got to Rico's favorite place in recent times, the one where he said his clients tended to be. The music was loud, rumbling. Salsa music that Téa liked. He eyed the crowd. The place was still predominantly gay. See, in Havana, gay clubs aren't exactly legal so they tend to bounce around. This one wouldn't last much longer. The crowd would find another place to make their own for a spell. Then move on again. He walked through the throng of people, ignoring all the curious eyes on him. People assumed he was on the prowl. Though looking like a swamp monster he felt, he guessed they were thinking the prowl was hopeless. Nobody dared come up to him or hold his gaze. Checked the bathroom first, listened for Rico… looked for his shoes beneath stall doors… nothing. He hit the main floor again.

He growled when he spied Rico's pimp, Gavín, in prime real estate… the corner that allowed him visibility of the entire place. He sat like a fat cow, admiring his whores who were on the dance floor, making contacts. Glaring like the badass he was, Todd walked up to him and the man wasted no time in clambering to his feet. He held a knife in his hand that Todd almost laughed aloud at.

"_You come near me and I will kill you!"_

"_You will be dead before you even get a chance."_

"_What do you want, you bastard?"_

"_Rico. Where is he?"_

The man went from defense to shit-eating grin, realizing the monster hadn't thrown Rico out, but rather had misplaced his toy. Or better, the toy had run off. He laughed, "_Rico has chosen to stay a whore rather than stay with you? Delightful!"_

"_Where is he?"_

"_And why would I ever tell you that? After what you did to me, to him?! Lucky boy, getting free of-"_

Todd had no patience. He grabbed the man by the throat and bashed him against the brick wall hard enough to get Gavín to gasp because the wind got knocked out of him. So did the knife. Todd kicked it away. People jumped at the commotion and the roar of the crowd lessened, but the music continued to bang away.

"Where… is… Rico?" There was guilt in Gavín's brown eyes, dead-on guilt. Todd got close to the man's face and spat, "_I will tear your throat out. I will rip your tiny dick off and eat it in front of all these people."_

"_You will go to jail!"_

"_No, I won't. Everyone in here knows you're a piece of SHIT. They will fucking worship me."_

Gavín glanced around and there was no doubt, people were laughing at his predicament. He shuddered and glowered. Jutted his chin out. _"You are too late. He is probably dead already."_

Todd dropped him like a hot potato, eyes wide and stunned. Gavín fell to the floor and then laughed and laughed, an ugly sound, harsh and competing with the music, his face an even uglier mask.

From the floor, Gavín said, _"You will find his body in the alley two or three streets over. Lying with the rest of the trash. Nobody cares about him. People will have watched the killing and will have done nothing. Because he is… nothing. Not worth even a hundred dollars. They wanted payback for you taking him out of rotation. You stupid, stupid bastard." _

Todd stood over him, his face creased with disgust… hate… and asked, "Who took him?"

"_His brothers."_

Todd moved to leave, but then… at the last minute, just as Gavín was trying to get back up, Todd turned back and kicked him in the mouth with his hard… black… boot. Held on to the wall and kicked Gavín beyond bloody, swearing under his breath, vowing to make sure Rico never crossed paths with this motherfucker, kicked until the bouncers were holding him back. They had no sympathy because it was exactly as Todd had stated, everybody hated the ugly pimp, but control had to be made.

"_Come on, Americano! He is not worth it!"_

Held by the two massive men, Todd managed to hawk and spit thickly on the pimp who groaned on the floor and was being fully mocked by the crowd. The bouncers just pulled, dragging Todd outside and tossing him as soon as they hit air. They clearly had no bitterness because they were gentle with him, relatively speaking. Todd stood tall, catching his breath. Rasped in English, "I am looking for Rico… _Rico Macias_. Where is he? That bastard said he was already dead...two streets away?"

The two men glanced at each other, bad looks on their faces,one saying, _"He is talking about the Maze, the back street where the whores go to do their business… I saw him leave with a customer. That way." _He pointed in the easterly direction. "_The Maze, I am sure of it. I am sorry, I hope that fucking Gavín is wrong, but hombre… people die in the Maze because police don't patrol it."_

Todd thanked them and just booked it. Behind the club, he followed the alley. He wasn't sure where this maze was… Men and women hustled past him. Prostitutes. He grabbed one, "Hey… _where is the Maze?_" The man smiled, a tongue ghosting his lips. He got close to Todd…

"_What do you want in the Maze?"_

"_Rico Macias_. I am looking for him."

The man snorted, pulling out of Todd's grasp. "_So you like pretty men, yeah? You like them to piss on you. I do that good… I do anything Rico does, only better, my friend."_

It took a ton of self-control to not punch this guy, just because… _"No… no…. just tell me where the Maze is."_

The man pointed down the alley, "_Keep walking. You cannot miss the ship containers."_ He quicklydisappeared.

Todd walked deeper into the darkness, down another block further into the alley. The environment changed. He soon realized he was in the Maze, _el Laberinto_. It was a strange part of Havana he'd never seen before… kind of like the docks back in PA without the water. Large metal containers all over, crates, boxes. And noise. An indecipherable hum of human noise. Voices. Grunts. All just beneath the city's vibrations, the cars, the breeze through buildings, trees and shrubs. All beneath the ocean's background roar. He stepped along the watery cobbled street, wet still from the rain, from drains and unchecked faucets. Trash lay everywhere. He saw why the place was called the Maze. There were tens of hidden spots where people met to fuck. To do the shit people did when nobody was watching unless they wanted to be watched by someone who wanted to watch. The containers seemed abandoned, almost as if they were purposefully set up just to create these empty dark hidden spaces.

He ignored the undulating couples. Ignored the voyeurs. And then he stopped. Eyes roving all around him. Ahead, a woman gasped. She glanced at Todd and split. He followed to where she had been standing only minutes heart raced. God… please…

_Shit, shit, shit…_

This was where the woman had run from. He looked into the dark cubby...

Saw the soles of leather shoes, toes up. Black pants on a person. _God, please… Jesus… _A body covered by newspaper and boxes and stuffed into shadows. He couldn't breathe as he hit the ground, moving fast as he tore away the coverings, but then fell back at the sight of the broken man, twisted, bloody. A ruddy moon face with lifeless eyes staring up into the cloud-covered sky.

It wasn't Rico.

His heart pounded and he felt a rush of relief but… so what? Rico was still not here. Where was he? In some other hidden space?

"Fuck," he groaned. Then shouted, "FUCK!" Whoever the man was, he fought hard. His knuckles were bloody, hands maybe even broken. His large chest was covered in blood, the multi-colored flowers of his shirt distorted, lost in the blackened-red. The body was just at the edge of cold. Todd moved back even further, crab-crawling. His boots slipped and he caught himself. The wetness he was in wasn't water… it was a viscous pool of blood.

He heard something behind him and turned his head. A sniffle in a separate and deeper part of the cubby, where hardly any light reached, not moonlight or streetlights… Todd saw red pants… knees up, arms tight around his legs. The clouds shifted and light revealed Rico. He lifted his head, eyes on Todd. His face was darkened, bruises maybe, a swollen cut lip. His hands were bloody, knuckles almost as damaged as the dead man's. The knees on his pants were darker than the rest. Blood. A heavy worn look cut across his face. In this moment, he'd gone from twenty-five to forty-five.

"Rico… thank god-"

"My circus bear…" His face broke up in raw emotion, tears suddenly flowing, his heart there… on the outside of him. "He did not have money, so he had to give me up. He followed me. I didn't know my brothers were waiting. The bear… he fought like a lion! He broke my one brother and scared the other one off but not before he got stabbed. He saved me." He put his head down and sobbed quietly, the agony palpable. But then… "He saved me FOR WHAT?! He lost his family… FOR WHAT?! So I could be a whore another fucking DAY?! To give Gavín more money?! FOR WHAT DID HE DIE?! He was a good man!"

Todd reached for Rico but no… Rico kicked at him, mewled like a wild animal, and finally whipped his fists at him, "You stay away from me! You stay away…" Todd managed to drag him out of the dark space but couldn't keep him in his arms. Rico broke free and sobbed, his forehead and palms on the ground, on his knees. He then crawled in the blood to the big man and whimpered, the sound aching and lonely, kept kissing the man's face as he moaned, "_Lo siento_…_ lo siento… lo siento… yo no sabía, mí amigo… besos son libres ..."_

Kisses are free.

A woman in red came running, huffing, "_Rico... oh Rico… mí pobre… get out of here… the police are coming. They will take care of him. Go, go, go…hurry!"_

Getting to his feet, Todd gently pulled Rico, "Come on, _mari… ven conmigo." _Rico resisted, kept up his agonized sobbing. Todd pulled at him more, whispering, "Come on… come on… he did right by you. Let's go, _mari…" _Rico finally shifted. He stood and walked slowly, haltingly, out of the cubby. Out of the maze. He was injured, too. Hunched in pain. His eyes stayed down. He walked inches away from Todd without a plan. Todd was following him, but then he realized Rico was following HIM. Todd decided to make his way to Sylvia's _casita._ He'd call Raquel first thing. Todd couldn't help it… he glanced down Rico's body, worried he'd been raped. No torn clothes, though. It just looked like he'd been in a major brawl. Those fuckers… his _brothers…_ they meant to kill Rico. The moon-faced man had saved his life.

Todd grunted… adding names to his growing list, actual names he'd get later. _Brothers. _

Rico didn't object when they reached the house. Todd walked Rico through the door, into the kitchen. Abram had raced down the stairs, anxious and rubbing his body against Rico's legs. Rico stood silently, just standing there, tears rolling down his face, some slipping down his neck into his open shirt. They rolled and rolled…

"Come to the bath, _mari. _Let me see what they did to you."

"Why do you care?" His voice was broken, choked.

Todd did not want to insult him by saying words that were lies, that denied his conduct in the morning. "Because it's the right thing to do." He settled on that. He took Rico's arm and led him upstairs to the bathroom, Abram sitting outside in the hall, keeping guard.

He turned the water on. Made it hot. Glanced at Rico, who was now visibly shaking. He was in shock probably and needed the warmth. He needed to wash away the horrible night. And yeah, probably needed to wash the morning away, too. Todd carefully unbuttoned the black shirt Rico wore. When he pushed it off Rico's shoulders, Todd grimaced… the ribs, his torso, his sides… had blossomed into deep bruises, storm clouds in a creamy-mocha sky. And in it was blood that had leaked through his clothes. The bear's blood. All these clothes would have to be burned or bleached and tossed. Todd had to breathe a moment to quell the rising anger. He bit down on his teeth, muscles shaking. _Control… control…_ He urged Rico to sit on the edge of the tub.

He did, like a child. Complying easily.

Todd dropped down and took off the leather shoes and thin black socks. Club shoes. Scuffed from countless nights dancing with the Havana crowd. Still being careful, Todd unzipped the red leather-like pants. He looked up, Rico not reacting, more evidence he wasn't raped. He urged him back to his feet. Rico had not worn briefs… and right away as the pants slipped down, he saw swollen testicles, most likely where he'd been kicked. Todd grunted beneath his breath. Assholes knew Rico was a fighter… so they'd tried to neutralize him. Todd tried to keep the hate to a minimum but it was fucking hard to do. Rico's legs were bruised all over. He'd been kicked repeatedly while down. He whimpered at moving. When he turned to get into the tub… those tears started again. Todd took a quick glance and saw no damage to his backside other than faint bruising. Praised the gods Rico was spared that additional trauma.

Taking a washcloth, Todd soaped it and slowly, carefully washed Rico's body. His friend didn't look him in the eyes, just cried quietly. As if the tears came from an endless supply. Todd rinsed the towel and cleaned Rico's face, slowly, slowly…

"I am sorry for the circus bear," he said. "He was a warrior. His hands… he fought hard. I've seen that kind of damage in prison. He had something to protect and I'm thinking he wasn't just protecting himself. He was protecting you. You were worth it to him. The fact that you survived… means he didn't die for nothing."

Rico shut his eyes and turned away. Held his hand tightly to his face, trying to shutter the pain. "He should be home with his family," he said.

"He decided his family could live without him. He took the risk. He must have seen your brothers attacking you?"

"He came rushing in… like a lion." His voice broke and pressed the back of his hand to his lips, sobbing.

Todd repeated quietly, "You were worth the risk to him." Long moments passed, Todd just resting on the side of the tub. When Rico calmed, Todd tilted his head, asked, "Was he a client?"

"No. He was just a man I danced with sometimes. He never had money." He whispered the last part, regret and shame lacing his words. Only now did he look directly at Todd. A voice thick with accusation. "Why are you doing this? Why are you not with Téa?"

In Spanish, Todd said, _"I needed to find you. To make sure you were safe."_

Rico rolled his eyes, smirking bitterly. _"You did not care about my safety this morning."_

Todd briefly closed his eyes, then gazed darkly at the blood-tinted water. Said softly, "I always care… but my methods are not always right. I needed to see Elon's house today and I needed all of you gone, and… I was just fucked-up in my head. I am sorry… stupid and pointless that is to say. I hate that fucking word but it's all I have. And this. I'm here, okay?"

After a moment of Rico glaring at him, clearly not wanting to talk about what Todd found at the house… Rico grumbled, "It is my turn to say… fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."

Todd didn't answer. He had every Spanish-accented fuck-you coming to him that Rico could muster. Just the way he deserved those bullets. He ran the washcloth down Rico's wrecked body once more. Rico groaned at the pain and the sound tore through Todd. He kept the hate down, though. Rico did not need it. He needed kindness, gentleness. Todd picked up Rico's hand and washed the blood from it, soothed the cuts. Cleaned the nails… sure, the police would have been able to get the skin and blood beneath but Rico would never report the assault. This was probably one in a hundred over the years, Todd's own beating of Rico included, he reminded himself, sick at the thought. The bath proceeded without any more talking. Todd got him into the bed, naked because Rico didn't want to bother. Abram immediately got on the bed and burrowed against him.

"God, dog," Todd muttered, "you switch loyalties like socks." He smiled and rubbed his snout, letting him know he was doing a good job at soothing loved ones who needed it.

The sunlight was threatening to end the night out the closed windows. Todd took a fast shower, washing the night and day off him, the sandy salty sea off his skin. Brushed teeth, brushed his hair. Jesus, he looked a nightmare even showered. He needed a cut and a shave. Business was creeping into his head… _plans… _he shoved it all away. Put on boxer briefs and stalked the hallway, feet hitting the floor hard. That rage… it was coursing through him… _retribution… retribution…_ but it was a low simmer because he was still post-seizure… but more, because he had greater business to attend.

He entered the bedroom and Rico hadn't moved since before Todd left. He wasn't asleep though. Just staring into nothingness. Eyes puffy from grief. Todd sat at the dresser, swinging his feet up. Knees up. Fingertips slid in the condensation on the cold window panes, as he checked Rico every so often. Man lay like a mummy under the covers, every bump and dip of his body visible beneath the heavy white blanket. Todd cracked open the window and lit up a cigarette. Tasted good. He missed heroin. Drifted a bit in the dream of it. Glad though not to be feeling withdrawal symptoms. Guessed he hadn't used enough to trigger full-on dependence. Guessed the illness was more like a reaction to the black tar. Like his body rejecting it.

The two finally looked at each other.

Rico said, "Can you come into bed?" The words cracked at the end and he breathed in hard to stop the tears. Todd gazed some at Rico, then tossed the cigarette and shut the window. The room by now had the bluish iridescence of night before morning. He slid off the dresser. The broken tea set among the clothes were on the floor. Sylvia was gonna be pissed because it wasn't the only destroyed tea set - Rico had busted the one in the other room. Fuckin' brilliant.

He got under the covers. Considered how to hold Rico, if he even should. If the man even wanted it. _Fuck you, fuck you. _He had already done enough, yeah? He didn't want to hurt him, his body was so bruised and so was his heart. The morning, the night…

Rico rolled over anyway and draped himself over Todd who sighed and relaxed, wrapping an arm tentatively around Rico as he laid his head on his shoulder. Rico slid his heavy bent leg up and rested it securely. He was warm. The position felt strangely comfortable, that same feeling like it was natural, like he and Rico had been doing this forever. Strangely peaceful. Todd felt the hate lessen, like a cooling kettle.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "For your brothers being assholes… for the _circus bear_. What was his name?"

"_Yanko_…" Rico buried his face in Todd's neck, wetness suddenly there again. His shoulders shook with strangled sobbing. It took a while for him to stop. He lay silently another long while. He caressed the Catholic medal he'd given Todd and asked, "What are we, _Blanco?_ I feel like I need to know more. Why you came for me._"_

In some ways, Todd wondered if maybe he needed to figure it out, too. Téa seemed to have it all squared away. _Sexual fluidity_. Made him think of water, the ocean. How it flowed over the sand, shaping and reshaping, tearing down and building back up. Constant change. That and... _love. _But that was only HIM. What were THEY? He wanted Téa too much right now to think deeply on this. He wanted her to come up the stairs. He wanted her to get on top of him. He wanted to test that trust again.

_Mí vida, mí amor…_

He grunted, "Fuck if I know. We are just… whatever the fuck we are. No point trying to name it, or figure it out, definitely not now. But whatever it is… what you are NOT… is ever working for Gavín or any other fucking pimp again. You are never going to charge another person for sex again. You are going to chase LOVE, Rico… chase a real fucking LIFE. Do you get me? Do you understand? I don't care where the FUCK we end up. You are a goddamn artist… you have some real fuckin' talent… and SHIT-"

He shut up because Rico put fingers on his lips. "You saw the drawings."

"Yeah. They were good. Fucking GOOD."

Rico lifted himself up, his knee hitting the mattress on the other side of Todd. He studied his face, light eyes perpetually full of hurt, the scar on his cheek that cut deeply, the barest of lines in his fair skin… the too-heavy beard and shadowing. He gently kissed him, then sighed, "I left the book for you." He kissed softened lips again, pressed a bruised hand firmly on Todd's neck, laying his body heavily on those defined muscles he had drawn. Huddled into heat. Tears rolled down his face and he said, "I wanted you to see how beautiful you are. Because I did not plan to see you again. Ever."

Todd's own eyes moistened with a kind of sourceless sorrow, laying a hand on Rico's back, fingers on his cheek. Whispered, "I did. I saw exactly that."

"Let me hide inside of you, _león,"_ Rico murmured, his voice low and breathy. "Let me forget today… tomorrow…" He kissed harder. Held the back of Todd's neck with more strength. He moved his body despite the pain, because of the pain.

Todd immediately reacted to being the object of Rico's intense affection that marked their undefined existence… his breathing changed… a shudder rolled through him... he cursed in his head… he tried to resist but then didn't. Couldn't. He kissed right back, feeling the swollen lip, tasting blood and tears and Rico's soft tongue. He dug into a strong shoulder, slowly pulled dark hair into his fist as the kiss intensified. Found himself gripping Rico with his legs.

_Kisses are free. _

"_Fuck," _he huffed. Rico shushed him with another needy wet salted kiss, deeper, his mouth open and demanding. Their bodies moved against the other in slow oceanic waves. Rico then reached a hand downwards, grasping Todd's thigh with always-surprising strength, a firmness he tended to restrain. He adjusted himself further, trying to get Todd to wrap his leg around him… shifting his hips despite the tender goods… Todd's knee being urged back, the position all of a sudden wildly suggestive of a different sort of sex and Todd started shaking, groaning, his voice strained, "Oh god…"

Panic spread like wildfire as he grabbed Rico by the throat to stop him, to cut off the movement. Rico mistook it for passion though, continuing to rhythmically rub his hardness down beneath Todd's brief-covered scrotum, the tip hitting his ass directly, a different act from the norm, for them. _Caro_ exploded in Todd's head at the feel, at the gentle yet insistent push of Rico, shouts about _angelic noise_… how Todd could climax without being touched… _god, god, god_… if a man fucked him like a swan and he choked, "No… no, Rico..." and YET...oh GOD and YET, he was achingly hard and his belly was tight and so fast he wanted to get places. He wanted to come… he slid his hand between their bodies and fisted his own cock through his briefs…

_Jesus fucking CHRIST._

Fear screamed louder than anything his body wanted though and he finally grabbed hold of Rico by the arms, pressing far harder than maybe necessary. Shot out, "Stop! Just… stop, fuck… just… cool it..." Rico was breathing just as fast, the two working to catch their breaths, Todd's terror-filled eyes stayed on Rico's whose own were full of stunned pain. Oblivious.

"Did I hurt you? What is wrong?"

"You're worried about ME? God, sorry… sorry…nothing, no, let's just..._not_, yeah? I-I-I don't want to hurt _you _anymore, _mari_. I'm afraid..." He didn't want to say that images were fighting to get to him, splashing up at him, strangling him from the inside, so he focused on his fingers on Rico's arm, the indentation into his flesh. Eyes on linens. Eyes on the window… _here… here… _he was in Havana… he was in Sylvia's place. Okay, okay… FUCK... okay.

"I don't care if you hurt me… I want to feel you, I need to feel you… whatever we are, what we are not..."

"God, I know… god, I fucking KNOW." And he did. He knew how it was to want to escape through sex. He constantly sought escape with Téa like that. _Mi vida… mí amor…_Todd rested back against the pillow, tears blurring his view. He closed his arms tight around Rico, tight, tight, kissing his head over and over, hair smelling of sweat and the club and cigarettes against the soaped skin. "I know, I know, I know…," he breathed, feeling wetness on his chest. "This fucking night," he grunted. Long minutes passed and they both watched the fading dark outside. Their breaths normalized. They just lay there… just being… completely intertwined in each other. More like desperate lone survivors than lovers. Like children on a stormy night.

Todd said in a quiet voice, "I can't do what you want… and even if I could, I feel like every time... hurts you. Denies you… as a person… as something more than..."

"You said for me to chase love, _Blanco…"_

"I will never be everything you need. I'm so fucked up..."

"_You are enough for me. Just as you are."_

"_No. NO… you deserve more. You deserve everything." _Todd broke a little as he held Rico's face in his hands, looking into those dark haunted-forever eyes, and whispered, "You deserve to be loved... the way you like… fully… _everything_…"

Rico turned and kissed Todd's hand, resumed his thoughtful gaze, "I don't care about that. But since it matters to _you_, how do you know you can't? Over time… it will no longer be what it used to be. I promise you." He added in a whisper, "In either direction."

"Jesus, Rico… God… FUCK… and it's more than that anyway…" Todd sighed noisily as if the world was pressing on his chest… which it was. He swallowed hard.

"Téa," Rico said.

"Yeah. No... I don't know. I have trust problems. She shot me! Twice!"

Rico chuckled quietly, the sound making Todd crack a smile, low reverberations against skin. He settled again. Glanced up… "She'll be back soon… you will leave soon."

"Maybe. But whatever, you're coming with me."

"As what, _león_?"

"As my friend… as someone..." He paused. What were they? What were they going to be? What could they possibly be? Ever? They were so fucking limited. First though, _Caro needed fixing. _The empire will implode, explode... after getting kids, saving them like that circus bear saved Rico. Meaning, Todd wasn't sure he was going to survive any of this anyway. Okay, so if that was the case… if this was his last moment on earth and he had to say what Rico was…

"As someone I love," he spit out. "I don't mean I'm gonna walk you down a fuckin' aisle… what I mean is… you are important. You are worth taking risks for… you help me see things I never saw before, never felt…you are… fucking… beautiful _inside_ and strong outside and… you are worth being on this planet. You are not something to throw away. You talk about me being a lion? No, Rico… _you _are the goddamn lion. You are fucking majestic."

Rico had long lost himself in those words, crying silently into Todd's chest. He supposed the long term… didn't matter. He supposed _what they were…_ didn't matter. What they did, what they didn't do. What did matter, was a concept of being worthy. This was something he needed to get used to.

Worth being here. Worth the life of his dancing circus bear. Being worthy was not in his lexicon. His value, his worth, had been defined by physical beauty and his highly limited..._skill set_. Worthy…. worthy of the sun rising in the morning and the moon at night, worthy of the waves on the beaches and the hope of New York City buildings… painting there…. sketching the Empire State Building, walking the streets with a messenger bag around his shoulders and maybe… maybe someone to love, next to him. It might not be _Blanco _as much as that hurt_… _but _Blanco _was the first one to ever say it and seem to mean it and right now… Rico needed to believe it. He had to if he wanted to believe Yanko died for a good cause.

Abram whined and snored… and the light of morning seeped through the glass.

Rico whispered, "So we will finish Caro. The system will be ended. And what… I'll go to the states with you? With Téa?" He sounded skeptical. Softly, he said, "Many people have promised that."

Todd turned hard, shoving Rico over, firmly but carefully. He sat up. Looked fierce. "_Rico Macias_… I mean what I say. I am not bullshitting you. We might not set up a fucking house together? BUT YOU ARE COMING HOME WITH ME. You are not going to die in fucking Havana as a fucking WHORE."

Rico gazed at him. Brows knitted. Said, "Getting out of Cuba… is not going to be easy. People swim and die in the water to get out. Sharks eat Cubans."

Todd heard Caro in his head… saying that Rico wasn't related to his family, not by blood. No doubt, he had been abducted from a real family. He knew English like a native, some turns of phrase that were instinct, that he couldn't possibly have learned in a book. Not to mention the detail of circumcision. Chances were... American or Canadian.

"Don't worry. I suspect getting you out will be a whole lot fuckin' easier than you think."

"_Blanco…_ what if _you _die here in Havana?"

Eyes closing, he sighed heavily. Rico saw right fucking through him. "I'm leaving instructions with lawyers… you WILL leave this place even if I am dead. Especially if I am dead." He settled back on the headboard. "Sleep," he snapped.

Shaking his head, Rico slipped down into the covers. He got close to Todd… resting an arm across the lion's belly and before long he was asleep. He whimpered and twitched in that sleep. And Todd watched the sunrise… the clouds slipping to the side… a hand on his _mari's_ head, unconsciously caressing him with his thumb.

And like those sun's rays, he felt the hate expand inside of him with every pained sound Rico made, with every jerk of his wounded body. The distance was gone. The post-seizure gone… Caro was going to die along with as many of his accomplices as Todd could wrangle and the world would be right again.

**To be continued….**


End file.
